


About the red moon made of crystal

by gbilert



Category: Naruto
Genre: Action, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Philosophy, Psychology, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-01-03 17:56:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12151830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gbilert/pseuds/gbilert
Summary: Morning — training with father. Breakfast. Training with senseis, studies. Lunch. Helping mother with younger ones. Supper. Sleep. Morning training. Madara is used to this and doesn’t really complain. The wheel of constancy keeps spinning, and it spins the world around at the same pace. Madara is almost nine when father brings into the clan a strange boy, and he practically feels how the wheel of ordinariness diffidently stops under Obito's mocking gaze.





	1. Number one: red

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [О красной луне из хрусталя](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/324990) by заварной_дошик. 



**…about the red glints in someone's eyes.**

Madara is seven.

Madara has a stern father and a completely sick, but kind mother. Madara has six younger brothers, two of them are still-born and nameless, and the youngest one has just turned two. Madara has only “must-must-must” on his mind, and sometimes it drives him mad.

Morning — training with father. Breakfast. Training with senseis, studies. Lunch. Helping mother with younger ones. Supper. Sleep. Morning training. 

Madara is used to this and doesn’t really complain. He doesn't know how to live any other way, he patiently grimaces as little Akami cries, changes bandages on the chest of six-year-old Uryu with mother, casually urges Ensui to play and diligently tries to remember clan symbols, world geography, how it is important to be able to bargain for missions and clan competitiveness altogether.

Madara doesn't like his lessons, he prefers not to voice his opinion though. He doesn't care why Yamanaka suddenly got angry with Nara, he’d rather take a walk in the forest instead of constant training or spend some time with falcons while cleaning their feathers.

Instead of this he grabs a katana too big for his height and practices all known stances and moves until his hands are shaking. 

It is normal. This is what his father tells him to do, even praises him. The clan is at war, the clan earns a living by blood and deaths, so he, Madara, must study hard as well to become a shinobi in future, a killer, one of the demons civilians scare their children with at night. 

There’s just no other way.

Everything is spinning day by day. Uryu has died, mother sheds tears and strokes smiling Izuna’s head, afraid to let him go. 

Brother’s coffin is small, hurriedly made. Brother looks surreal, and the hole seems deep. 

Madara isn’t crying. Tajima-otou-san isn’t crying, so that means, he must not too. 

“The Senju are to blame for this. They will pay for their guile,” otou-san almost growls, his fists clenched, somebody unwittingly takes up his words, until a confident cry 

“Death to Senju!”

can be heard all over the clearing. Madara is shouting too as he picks up everyone’s mood, and father briefly ruffles his hair. His wrinkles seem to smoother a bit because of his tired smile.

After a week Akami doesn’t come back from the battle with Senjus. Pregnant mother has a miscarriage. Checking her state and periodic preparing calming camomile tincture are added to Madara’s everyday chores.

It’s few months later when father is found in mother's room standing above her and holding the unsheathed katana, blood dripping from it. Mother lies dead at his feet, her throat slit as she clutches little brother Ensui with her still warm hands. Ensui isn’t moving. Mother’s carved dagger is stuck in Ensui’s ribs.

“Madara-nii-san!” Izuna that was clinging to the pant leg of father’s black hakama comes hurling towards him, he is not holding back his tears.

Madara doesn’t look at his father, he is afraid of him: his wrinkles seal deeper into the skin, lips pursed, and his gaze is painfully empty. 

Madara doesn't dare to ask what has happened. Sometimes it’s better not to ask father questions. Pretend that you don’t exist and breath once in a while.

He trains with Izuna now instead of watching his mother and brothers, but the wheel of constancy isn’t bothered by this. It keeps spinning all by itself, spinning quietly, it is sometimes interrupted by escort missions, obtaining all kind of things, and rare battles where the boy doesn’t really get ahead of himself.

It’s not like Madara feels indifferent — he feels nothing. He carries out father's commands, memorizes indicative financial schemes and types of trade, from time to time he lets Izuna play around in lieu of exercising and practicing the hand seals for the Fireball technique.

Madara is almost nine. The world is spinning before his eyes, like a wheel; father has a new wife-lover-woman; Nagisa-sensei has recently died in a fight with Hagaromo clan; Shigure, a servant, has got caught in Yamanaka’s trap; nomads from the deserts have mauled his acquaintance Tomomaru.

The world is spinning. Tajima-otou-san barely shows up in the camp, Izuna grows up, and he already holds his katana with confidence. He easily performs the Great Fireball, he also asks his big brother to show him a new cool technique. Izuna’s main affinity is lightning, but he wants to master fire. Just like his big brother. 

Izuna, maybe, is too fixated on his big brother, though Madara doesn't want to change anything. 

The world is spinning. Madara closes the eyes for a moment, and he can't tell apart one day from any of the next ones. Sometimes he ponders what his “any other way” or “if it wasn’t like that” might have been, but reaches a dead end. He wants to find out, although bounds of time and morals don’t let his thoughts find an end result.

Any other way is impossible. Hatred, battles, fury, war, dead relatives and mere acquaintances. Any other way is kind of unreal.

Madara can read someone’s death even in the silhouette of the moon; when at one night the sky turns red, he silently laughs. On the moon, so far-away, all-transcending, on the crystal moon he sees only blood and thousands of its shades.

Madara is already nine when father brings into the clan a boy of thirteen or fourteen years. His black hair remind of spikes, and the right half of his face is scarred. He has only one eye, the right one. Although it is the completed Sharingan with three tomoe.

The boy looks around curiously and smiles broadly. His smile is stupid and, honestly, somehow alien, as if it wasn’t created for this world. 

Father places him in care of some widow, telling her to train and feed him well, before he leaves with a clear conscience, not deigning to grant his clan members any more attention.

The boy shifts uncertainly for a while as Kaori-san studies her imposed cohabitant with annoyed eyes. The boy cracks first — or pretends to crack, who knows — and bows lowly to the woman.

“My name is Obito. Please, take care of me.”

At first Kaori-san can’t even comprehend what this is about, she dryly mumbles “Hai” and grabs the boy’s hand.

He answers with a smile, and almost everyone sees how the somber kunoichi sheepishly tries to smile back.

Madara is even interested in this Obito boy; where are these scars from, and how did he lose his eye, and how did he survive at all, and how did father find him? But he has trainings, particularly strategy and tactics which he loves much more, he must hurry or else impertinent sensei will tell on him to his father. Strange Obito is forgotten in the routine, buried under dozens of browsed scrolls and trainings with brother, he is fleeting somewhere between lunch-supper-breakfast.

He is reminded of Obito by Obito himself as he comes across him near the edge of the forest on a bloody full moon. His only eye squinted and gleaming, with a fox-like smile he asks a basically stupid question:

“Did you know that insides of the moon consist of crystal? Red, red crystal which was created especially for the moon by goddess Kaguya, huh?”

Madara practically feels how the wheel of ordinariness and constancy comes to a stop, distrustfully slowing its pace.


	2. Subnumber two

**…about the intensity of red colour in nature.**

“It’s impossible! You know that, right, nii-san? Then why are you listening to him?” Izuna tugs on brother’s sleeve to draw his attention and disapprovingly eyes Obito who is sitting on the fallen tree.“The moon can’t consist of crystal as it isn’t transparent!” 

Madara looks from his younger brother to strange Obito. He is a bit lost. It has already been stated that crystals are not outside, but inside the moon, so what is Izuna trying to prove? 

Strange Obito is observing with interest. A faint smile on his lips, a discerning glare. It feels as if he knows exactly what Madara’s thoughts are. As if he understands the younger’s behavior. 

“Tell him, nii-san, that he’s a liar!” Izuna demands as he turns to Madara, his lips pursed and the brows furrowed in an extremely funny way. Madara barely keeps from laughing, yet Obito smiles only wider. Like a fool. 

“We haven’t been on the moon to say for sure what it is made of.” Izuna bats his long lashes, unable to believe what he hears: how can Madara-nii-san possibly be on the side of this fool Obito? How can nii-san possibly support him? 

Actually, Madara had better forget all of Obito’s gabbing and chatter: in these times there’s no point for a real shinobi to stare at the moon, to take in streaks and spots covering its red-claret surface as if it tells or means something. Madara had better give in to the routine — waking up-training-breakfast-studies-lunch-training-sleep — and happily learn basic genjutsu as father and the duty to the clan demand. Madara had better take off his childish rose-coloured glasses that he has managed to put on after all murders and filth he has seen and dive into reality.

Yet he doesn't want to. And that's it. It is easier to live with the rose-coloured glasses. To believe in something good again, in Obito’s tales, in people.

“Well, then keep sitting here! But I will go train!” Izuna suspiciously sniffles before he walks away fast from the clearing. They spend some time in an awkward silence.

 “Izuna-kun left just when I wanted to tell that I had meant mountain crystal.” Obito decides to elaborate because of Madara’s uncomprehending stare, “You know, its crystalline solids grow in earth. Clearly, the outside isn’t crystal, it is earth, but how would he know about the inside?” 

It’s not much clearer even after that.

“What do you mean?”

“Silicon,” Madara turns to Obito who’s twirling a leaf he has just torn off in his hands.“The moon consists of silicon and… a tree. The oldest tree that has ever existed.”

Madara is intensely racking his brains trying to connect the logic of his words with reality. Silicon is a mineral, it isn’t transparent. It appears the moon’s crust is earth that is similar to one under his feet. And some tree within.

But why a tree?

And how did the tree get into the sky?

And why is the tree encased in silicon? 

Even if he takes everything Obito has said as a fact, one logical — for Madara — question remains:

“Then where would be the place for that crystal of yours?”

Because if the tree is inside the moon, and earth is outside, then where is crystal?

Obito glances at Madara with confusion before he mutters something like:“If we are similar, I would have killed myself in Kakashi’s place.”

“Crystal, of course, protects tree’s tender soul and branches.” Madara has difficulty understanding this nonsense. In fact, to him even soul is an ethereal concept, let alone Obito’s allegories which are incredibly hard to process. 

Madara can’t help but take a step back. And two more towards the camp.

“Leaving already?” 

And for some reason Madara feels so uncomfortable around this strange Obito that he barely enunciates, hems and hurriedly explains himself:

“Izuna is right, if I won’t show up for practice, father… Really, this is what’s best for me.”  Then, all of a sudden, Madara just wants to run away. And so he does. Without an ounce of shame.

“Good luck with your studies.”

Madara runs faster without seeing how the only eye of strange Obito shines with scarlet colour. The Sharingan with three tomoe follows the heir of the great Uchiha clan, and no movement can escape it. 

To Madara’s great disappointment, his fear is discovered; happily for him, his thoughts and emotions still remain within him: Obito couldn't activate the Sharingan to read all the secrets of the leaving boy, could he? Such nerve would be hard to justify to the clan head who — maybe — would have found out this blatant disgrace.

But Madara is blissfully ignorant and continues avoiding Obito to the point when he is sick of living the way he has always been doing.

Telling half-truths, silencing his own opinion, listening to callous statements of father and his advisors, of teachers. He can argue with Obito, he can share his point of view, and it won’t be rejected, he can talk himself and listen to him. Even Izuna understands Madara once in a while: as for him, everything you do should be for the sake of the clan, the rest is vanity and beneath a true shinobi. 

(or does he exaggerate abilities of Obito that he has known for such a short amount of time, not wishing to admit his own curiosity?)

Madara unwittingly thinks that if he had never met the strange boy, it would have been easier. He — just like Izuna — would have been performing his responsibilities without a thought about their necessity, would have been following father obediently without a doubt about him. 

Yet Obito can easily deny any custom without a shadow of seriousness. He can summon complicated facts as examples, and grown-ups will even understand, though they will disapprove some of his words anyway.

What makes him mad the most is that Obito nods his head at disapproval and agrees with them, rarely retorts to spiteful taunts. But the boy isn’t interested in Madara’s opinion. Sometimes he has an impression that Obito isn’t interested in anybody's opinion. Except for his own. 

That's why it takes Madara so long to approach the boy who’s sitting near the extinguished bonfire. Obito is somewhat half-lying, half-sincere, half-human. Understanding.

Stupidly contradicting himself. Regarding everything he does.

Obito narrows his eyes studying the newcomer in the silvery-white — a red moon shows up on the firmament not that often — moonlight.

“Has Madara-kun really come for a new story? Or you just have nothing to do?”

Madara is already starting to regret that he decided to get anywhere near Obito at all, that he gave in to the desire to be distracted from constancy, that he showed weakness. Madara has somehow forgotten that Obito‘s every sunny smile is accompanied by one hundred and a few more sarcastic remarks with or without a reason.

“If I bothered you, then I would leave at once.” Obito immediately jumps up emotionally waving his hands and gives a slightly embarrassed laugh.

“Relax. I’m even happy that somebody finds my stories interesting. What do you wish to hear about this time?”

Madara hasn’t come for stories, he has come to a free listener to pour out without being laughed at, but for some reason he keeps the words he’s prepared to himself.

It's not like Obito is a master storyteller, but he does it with feelings and passion, describes all places and events as if he was there himself, although most of the stories are, of course, made-up, and some are retellings of myths.

“I don’t know. Choose yourself.”

Obito doesn’t think long, however, his mood abruptly shifts. He is rarely serious, rarely takes off the mask of a naive fool, of a child, that’s why now he seems to Madara older than his actual age. 

Madara shrugs off his impression as a result of both Obito’s seriousness and ugly scar on the half of his face. 

He faithfully hopes it's not about something else.

 “Then I will tell you about the origins of chakra.”

Madara can’t help but say a word in, telling what teachers has hammered into him, what pretty much everyone knows. 

“It doesn't have origins, does it? It is just spiritual energy which is produced by us. 

“Chakra is spiritual energy mixed with physical energy. It can be moulded into Fire or Water, we can control its movement, making it flow, cleave, fly. Yes, I agree, spiritual energy is one’s soul, everybody has it and, as you put it, somehow produces it. But who and how came up with the idea to mix it with physical energy?”

Obito tilts his head sideways, like an owl, and curiously awaits the reply.

Madara doesn't know what should even be answered to this question. Chakra is a familiar appendage to life, to shinobi; the very existence is impossible to imagine without it. Its creation? Its principles? No, no way, Madara is unable to fancy even an approximate answer. In his mind are swirling only instincts and the will to survive, nothing more, so to be more specific covering this theme is beyond his capabilities.

“In case you didn’t know, before humans learnt how to wield chakra, the world had already existed for a couple of millenia. Wars were fought, blood was shed: there’s no difference from our generation. Even we were able to develop ninjutsu skills, so why do you think nobody had come up with that idea in those times?” Madara thinks such times are fiction because chakra has always existed. He is about to shrug: he won’t grasp the logic of Obito’s fable, it’s already apparent, when he suddenly gives it a thought. 

If he tries to analyze the situation. Well, if he accepts the possibility of this fairy tale being real. If he draws few conclusions. Then, maybe…  

“Hold on,” Madara tries to figure out what Obito is getting at. He bounces around associations from one idea to another, and a certain theory seems to be lining up. “Ninjutsu require chakra. If they had been fighting without them, then that means they couldn’t acquire chakra. Chakra is the combination of energies humans produce… constantly, right? So that means…”

“That at some point humans acquired the ability to blend energies of body and spirit,” Obito practically sings this sentence and derisively snorts. Madara furrows, such suggestion is too unrealistic and wild. “And they called that blend “chakra”. That’s what my tale is about. About goddess Kaguya who, in all honesty, was only a human. About Rikudou-Sennin. About the Sharingan and the Rinnegan.

And Obito starts leisurely telling-telling-telling something strange, yet surprisingly simple and clear either. It's as if Madara sees with his own eyes the God Tree and the fruit that has been growing for thousands of years, that is forbidden to be touched, that, of course, the Rabbit Goddess consumes. He is there when Kaguya speaks of a better world, of sorrow and joy to her sons, and Hamura figures out her sheme: his mother just wants to take back all chakra that was spread to people.

Here comes up a little discrepancy; because if Kaguya wanted to reclaim chakra instead of some obscure “ability to mould Yin and Yang together”, then Obito has made a mistake somewhere. Obito frowns asking to hear the rest of the story. It seems he doesn’t want to admit his mistake.

Madara almost hears the enraged howl of the God Tree, the Juubi demon, he is with Hagoromo and Hamura when they extract chakra from the furious creature, when the older brother decides to seal that energy within him becoming the first jinchuriki in history, when Ootsutsuki elevate the tree-flesh to the planetary orbit. 

“Where was Kaguya at that time? She was strong, she had to help her sons protect the population.”

“You’re a fool, Madara,” scowls Obito. “This… bunny was the God Tree itself. Or rather, its madness. The demon. The Juubi’s mind. Before her it was just a tree without any desire and the ability to move.” 

Madara doesn’t have time to be insulted by the “fool” remark, he ponders why this is about Kaguya if the God Tree is to blame. 

“So she got mad at her sons and was able to use the Juubi’s body? But why on earth would she demand chakra back?” Obito shrugs. He has no wish to reply, he would gladly change the subject. But he speaks through clenched teeth: 

“Perhaps there was a reason. Depends how you look at it. Maybe, her sons mistook her wish for an attempt to dominate the world using chakra. Maybe, she actually lost her mind. Maybe, she wanted to protect from something — from someone — taking the hit herself. How am I supposed to know?” Obito isn’t telling everything. Or it appears to Madara that Obito knows everything, so it’s just impossible to hear “I have no idea” from him.

Madara isn’t bugging him with questions, even though he’s terribly curious. Instead he points out with annoyance:

“You mentioned the Byakugan and the Rinnegan. What about the Sharingan? It’s more ancient than these doujustu!”

Obitp suppresses an urge to ask something like “Are you completely out of your mind, dear heir?”, although Madara realizes this because of the disgruntled look in his eyes.

Obito reminds himself that the clan’s propaganda is strong: the Rinnegan is a myth, the Hyuga clan is mercilessly dragged through the mud while the Sharingan is glorified above all. There’s nothing surprising about Madara’s words. Obito patiently explains: 

“Originally, the Byakugan is as powerful as the Sharingan is. Have you heard the rumors that our eyes are descended from the Byakugan?”

Madara’s reaction is logical: he is instantly acting all proud like older shinobi do.

“I have. Those Hyuga can’t accept our superiority, but to think up such a stupid rumor? What a barefaced insolence.” Obito can’t help but roll his eyes.  

“This rumor isn’t “stupid”, Madara-kun. But it’s not entirely true either. As I said earlier, Kaguya wielded the Byakugan, the Rinnegan was a third eye on her forehead. Rukudou had the Rinnegan while his brother inherited mother’s Byakugan. Rikudou’s son, Indra, was the first to awaken the Sharingan from the first tomoe to the Mangekyou.” 

Obito stumbles on Indra’s name, although Madara doesn’t focus on the slip and keeps listening.

“In fact, the highest form of the Sharingan is the Rinnegan. It is per se the same bloodline limit just at the different evolutionary rounds. Also, the Mangekyou is a slight ramification, the essence remains the same. In general. Well, there is a difference, and I wouldn't call it small, but if we simplify-”

“The highest form of the Sharingan  _is_ the Mangekyou,” Madara abruptly interrupts the boy’s musings.

Obito may say whatever he wants. He is used to hearing him flout all norms and rules. But you just can't do that. Tajima-otou-san said otherwise. The teachers said otherwise. And they surely know more than this ragamuffin Obito who has just recently been brought into the clan, who had no means of finding this kind of information, who must keep quiet and blend in, being permanently grateful to Tajima-otou-sama for the opportunity to study with shinobi. 

Yet instead of studying he is making up tell tales. He’s never to be seen during the trainings. What is he busy doing is indefinite.

So he is lying. Certainly lying.

Obito softly smiles once again.

“As you wish to believe.”

Madara leaves because he can't stand it anymore, he hears indolent “Sleep well, Madara-kun” behind his back.

Madara can’t admit to himself: even though Obito’s stories seem impossible, even though the shinobi world probably evolved some other way, he wants to listen to the boy, wants to find out what else his imagination is capable of. 

He wants to _believe_ Obito.

And Madara quickly tells Izuna about Indra. He isn’t really in control of his actions as he recounts Kaguya and Hagoromo’s story. Then Izuna is suddenly eager to learn more about the clan’s possible founder and even demands to go to Obito. 

“You loved his story that much” doesn't sound like diatribe ridicule coming from Madara’s lips. He nods agreeing with younger brother.

Obito is barely surprised. He puts away the bowl with stew he has eaten and waits for the questions of two brothers that sit down next to him.

Madara shifts — not embarrassedly, of course not, is he some kind of girl to worry about their little falling out at the end of the last conversation — and brings himself to speak up.

“Tell us about Indra. You mentioned him but didn’t really go into details.”

“Yeah, Madara-nii-san told me that you told him that he was the founder of the clan! I mean Indra was, not him!” 

Something flashes deep inside Obito’s only eye almost imperceptibly. Madara thinks that was mockery.

Madara is deeply wrong, but he’ll never understand why.

“You’re too small. Maybe sometime later.” 

“And why is that?! We asked you, so you have to answer!”

Obito somehow puts up with Izuna’s resentment and angry huffing. Madara can’t help but take notice of the fact that Obito would send him to go train long ago. It looks like he makes allowance for Izuna’s age and his intelligence that five-year-olds hardly ever shine by.

The simple statement “I will tell Kaori-san about your laziness!” saves the day. Obito treats the widow that he was put in care of with genuine respect, so he hates disappointing her.

“I will say one thing, it’s a dirty story. Hagoromo had two sons, Indra and Ashura. Indra was the elder one. At some point brother turned on brother. And killed him. It’s still impossible to say who was killed, but I’m leaning towards Indra’s madness. The feud started between their families, then, after centuries, it escalated into an all-out war between the clans which are descended from them. This led to tradition: while daimyo hires one, daimyo’s enemy makes sure to hire the other because these two clans are the strongest in the whole world, and only Ashura’s clan can stand up to Indra’s clan."

Obito’s eye seems mysteriously crimson in the reflections of orange flames, and Izuna clings closer to his brother.

Izuna is not afraid, Izuna must not be afraid because it is unbecoming of a shinobi. The child is just suddenly cold, and Madara doesn't push little brother away from himself. Of course, he will believe and nod at Izuna’s claims that he’s the bravest of them all, that fear is unknown to him. 

Madara, on the other hand, won't lie to himself. He is terrified of the stories as strange as Obito is, of their ephemeral realism that nobody in the clan believes and acknowledges, that they prefer to ignore.

Meanwhile, Obito’s “one thing” quitely turns into a detailed story full of remarks and speculations. He refers to other subjects in parallel, pulling concepts out from them and somehow tying it all into the main thread of the narrative.

Madara is extremely curious as to where the story will lead them this time. Where the moon rabbit will fall, why fire fits leaves, in what infinity the whirlpool spirals down.

Obito is strange, but, to be frank, not that much. A fantasist, a one-of-a-kind slacker because all the others are dead, he nevertheless is an ordinary Uchiha. One-eyed and half-scarred or not. His character is complicated, but actually bearable. Bearable from time to time. When it is really, really needed.

And Madara really wants to know how the boy’s path will twist, what his personal story will turn out to be. And for this — only for this, of course — Madara will stay near Obito. That's what he has decided.

That’s how the familiar wheel of world’s ordinariness has shattered turning to ashes.

Seemingly, for good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obito tells the truth, the lunar soil, regolith, indeed contains a lot of silicon(in comparison to other elements). And mountain crystal is a mineral, pure natural silicon dioxide, variety of quartz (for those who don’t remember). https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lunar_soil
> 
> Madara doesn’t know about the connection between crystal and silicon because he doesn’t need to.


	3. Subnumber three

**…about red stains on the back.**

“I can’t go on like this.”

Madara stops eating his fish roasted on the fire and gives Obito a questioning look. He takes off the blue-grey armor, still wearing the high-collared clan shirt, and drops his katana near it. Izuna looks at the whole thing with exasperation but keeps comments to himself: he’s too tired after today’s work to start a new argument with fool Obito. Especially if it concerns his untidiness.

“This constancy frustrates me. It’s like a cage. So senseless. Day by day. Submission, adulation, carving up innards. As if there's no life besides that.” 

There is longing in Obito's voice. Madara would like to ask about its reasons, but he won't get an answer no matter who he will threaten to complain to.

“How come you say this? We celebrate O-Segatsu. Not long ago passed Tanabata, don't you remember?” Madara can't comprehend what exactly Obito means by monotony. Almost every day he makes something up, he is lazy and avoids his responsibilities as he finds more interesting activities, like now. How somebody can perceive that as monotony is clear only to Obito.

Or maybe, he isn’t used to restrictions within the clan? Obito doesn’t talk about his life before the clan, perhaps, his home was one of the small villages where customs aren't so harsh as people don't have to simply survive, saving their skins from shinobi of all possible clans.

Or did he wander alone? Then Obito’s thirst for freedom is even more understandable: he still can’t get used to clansmen and his own place. To demands. To obligations.

And it's already been two years.

“It’s not that,” brushes off Obito, and Izuna can’t take it anymore, he disdainfully snorts.

“You are never satisfied, Obito-baka. Yes, we carve up enemies’ innards and anyone’s we are pointed to. It is our job. We are paid for this. Do you even know what the word “money” means? We live this way to make a living, alright?”

Madara kind of agrees. People born with chakra have historically become mercenaries. Because they are stronger, more resilient, faster. Because it's easier for them to hoe a vegetable garden, move stuff around, find something or someone. For money, obviously. 

And for those who have chakra it's easier to kill a person too.

As daimyo started fighting with each other, at some point they resorted to hiring shinobi. At first it was just one daimyo, others afterwards followed the suit.

Later they were called “shinobi” all over the world. When they realized that fighting financially benefits shinobi more than cultivating fields or serving wealthy people as trackers.

That's why Madara disagrees that wars and murders are shinobi’s official job and that it is absolutely normal as Izuna furiously states. He disagrees because the mortality rate among shinobi defies any classification. In fact, Madara sometimes tries to figure out how shinobi managed to pass through centuries of wars without going completely extinct and decides it’s luck. It can't be anything but luck. 

“But you imagine a life outside the clan so vaguely. You know nothing at all to be able to compare it with your memories and experience.”

Obito‘s answer makes Madara wonder a bit. Logically, Obito should have pointed out the inadequacy of Izuna’s reasoning and the value of life or something as Madara too believed that, however, the boy quite unexpectedly decided to take a different approach.

But what can you compare shinobi’s life with? With a life of a merchant? A peasant? A vagabond without a home? With aristocratic luxury? It can’t be compared. Madara is still struggling to understand how such nonsense has crossed the boy’s mind.

“As if you know,” Izuna twitches when Madara decides to speak up. Obito looks at him — with a typically mocking expression — and confidently states:

“I do know.”

(you can read the subtext: unlike you two, yes, I do know, and you don't, stupid nonentities that are fixated on yourselves and your tiny world of a clan)

It’s just Madara’s imagination when he hears unclear desperation somewhere between the sound scales of the words Obito has said.

After that the conversation dies. Izuna doesn’t hasten to say his usual “well, go ahead, lie about something else”, and Madara doesn’t risk to pry. 

Obito bites his lips before he jumps from his place.

“I’ll go to that village we passed by for a night. You know, the one with cool scallops?”

Izuna opens his mouth to oppose him. Izuna definitely wants to drill into fool Obito that he can't act so irresponsibly. 

Izuna shrugs and turns away. 

“If you are not here by the morning, we don't even know that you have gone out.” 

Obito thankfully nods — what’s the point, Izuna doesn’t see it anyway — and just leaves.

He doesn't take the katana with him, abandons his armor and weapon pouch that contains some scrolls and few shurikens remaining after the mission. 

“When Yuno-taicho finds out, he will kill us for the company,” notes Madara. It's not like he doesn't believe in Obito, though it was the most imprudent of Izuna to just let him go: Inuzuka shinobi and the Yuhi clan have been seen in the area, there’s a chance of stumbling into the Hyuga. Wandering around alone is quite the stupidity for which you will easily get killed.

And why has Madara decided to stay silent?

“He’ll return,” cuts off Izuna, not wishing to talk about Obito any longer.

His brother hasn't started treating him normally over two years.

In the morning Obito is found neither in the camp, nor within sight. Yuno-taicho is angry, though he doesn’t make up conspiracy or Obito’s kidnapping theories. Instantly, as soon as he sees his discarded katana and armor, he declares that Obito has escaped.

For some reason Madara can't help but add an indifferent phrase into commander’s outraged speech.

“He said he would return.”

“Then he should catch up with us if he really wants to return,” replies taicho after an unbearably long-short time, and Izuna tries to exhale quieter so he won’t show his nervousness.

Maybe, it’s just Madara’s imagination again, but Yuno-taicho seems to be worried not about the fact of Obito’s absence, but about Obito himself. Because due to his personality he will definitely get into trouble, run into bandits or somebody else. And if it were up to impulsive Yuno, he would take off, following the restless kid, but he is in charge of the unit composed of a dozen shinobi and clan head’s two sons. Taking off after some boy in these circumstances is stupid and unwise.

Therefore after a day and a half — exhausted Izuna had to be carried near the end — they reach the compound, then Yuno and a few clansmen disappear. For two days, not any longer. And they come back with Obito.

(Madara estimates the trip back and forth, the time searching for their relative, the speed at which the grown-up shinobi made their way and compares it with his group’s speed, and, in all honesty, he almost isn’t upset realizing that he was pitied on the way back) 

Obito is trailing a little behind the three shinobi. Not really tired, rather thoughtful. He doesn’t look worse for wear or beaten-up: he can’t spot any bruises or wounds, at least, on his hands and face.

Madara only now happens to notice his resemblance to strange Obito. Maybe, their eye shape is a bit different, but, all in all, disregarding the age, especially with the same hair length, it’s practically impossible to tell them apart.

And, actually, this raises some questions in his mind. He, maybe, would like to share them with Izuna or ask father one evening.

Yet Madara isn’t sure if he wants to hear the answers. In the end, the main family doesn’t consist (though it’s more like this: “the main family didn’t consist”; his three aunties are dead, one uncle has recently gone missing while the other was killed five years ago, let alone more distant relatives) of Tajima-otou-san and Madara with Izuna. Why Obito isn’t officially considered as its part is none of his business. 

Maybe, he indeed belongs to one of the branch families. They are just similar. It happens. And this similarity means nothing at all.

Madara is waiting till Obito comes out from father’s office while trying not to peek too much towards Izuna who is hiding nearby.

The first to reappear are Yuno and his team. Their expressions stern, yet somewhat — if you know Uchihas’ habits, of course — relaxed. If Yuno, for example, was perturbed or gloating, it would be evident. Haru, maybe, would wear a similar mask, but his disapproval would still be evident anyway.

Like that time two days ago.

Though shinobi aren’t showing any signs of worry.

Madara decides against approaching them, but when Obito — the tranquillity itself in all its aspects, as if nothing happened, the shinobi squad wasn’t sent after him at all – leaves father’s room, the first thing he stumbles upon is Madara.

Silent Madara. Because he is unsure what and how should be said, and pouncing with accusations isn’t an option, Obito would withstand his outrage with an understanding smile and a phrase “I’m genuinely sorry, it won’t happen again”. And whether it will happen or not is besides the point. 

“In my defense, may I ask,” the beginning of the conversation already makes him tense because Obito can ask anything he pleases and then blame Madara for it. “Do you want a candy?”

Madara could swear Obito fished the candy out of thin air.

(and if this suicidal slacker somehow managed to create a storage fuin on his own body at the age of fifteen, he would personally tell on him to father: nobody needs a shinobi with a mangled chakra pathway system)

And apparently he should refuse. Madara is still holding a grudge and, in fact, is really, really angry. But the candy — a mochi, seemingly, with the blueberry filling — looks so tempting that he doesn’t really want to refuse. 

“So let me get this straight,” they are walking through the corridors of the house towards the exit. Izuna is still carefully hiding behind the corners and stalking them. Madara has already eaten the mochi, and he wouldn’t mind another one. ”Did you run all the way to the village, stirring up the clan, just for the sweets?”

“Not just that, though you are too young to know about it,” sneers Obito. Madara doesn’t care about too young part, at this moment only candies matter to him.

Does he have a choice if there are none in the clan, and he, like many other children, has almost a physical need in sweets?

“And you’ve brought only one sorry mochi specially for me?”

Obito sighs. Well, his tricks are exposed, and Madara is completely right. The teen has more than one sorry mochi up his sleeve.

“Don’t be a sourpuss, sweets have to be shared. There are a lot of little kids besides you.” Madara purses his lips: obviously, you have to share, but that doesn’t mean, he really wants to. 

“I am not little.”

“Of course, you are not,” obediently agrees Obito, and Madara would even try to hit this overweening prick if not for the simple knowledge about his skill: Madara won’t be able to land a hit. So he has to deal with it and follow the boy in the vague hope of getting at least one more mochi.

Obito catches Kamo, a six-year-old girl, and solemnly hands her a bag with sweets, asking her to give them out to the others. Just like Madara, Kamo is torn between the public condemnation of the boy and her love for sweets. 

Obito understands this and asks to keep a secret that it was him who brought the candies. Kamo cheerfully nods as she grabs the bag from his hands and runs away. 

Undoubtedly, by the evening all kids will have known about Obito who brought the candies. 

(and Madara certainly will tell on Obito to father because you can pull a heavy sachet out of nowhere only using a fuin, and a fuin at fifteen years old equates to a mangled chakra circulatory system a bit later, when pathways will grow bigger and start reforming)

“What, are you going to be left without sweets, Izuna?” Brother begrudgingly comes out of his hideout — someone’s tent, staring at Obito with discontent expression. And here he thought he still was unnoticed.

“You have given out all of them, haven’t you?”

“Well, if you don’t need candies, then I guess I will...” Obito fiddles a translucent bag full of something small and creamy yellow. Caramels.

“I need them!” Izuna barely keeps himself from snatching the cherished sachet. “I mean I will gratefully accept this gift from you.”

Sweets last Madara with Izuna all next week. Obito as always is doing nothing at all, hanging around the kitchen where Kaori-san usually is. He even seems to be helping: chopping or moving things around as best as he can.

He disappears again at the end of the week. Madara is speechless, Izuna is breathing in and out angrily, from time to time alternating sighs with frustrated exclamations. Surprisingly, no one has been sent after him, and Obito’s disappearance isn’t mentioned at all.

He returns four days later with sweets for children and spices needed in kitchen. Tajima-otou-san has no idea of his absence, and everyone is totally satisfied.

To the question “where did you get money?” (they weren’t given from the clan coffers to get such trifles while they are in need of more important things, were they?) Obito replies insisting on his ability to fool anyone in gambling and the kind highwaymen, half of the clan doesn’t believe this but prefers not to dig deep.

Eventually this has become more than a-second-time or even a-third-time occurrence, but the clan keeps stubbornly pretending that everything is okay.

Obito is happy to get away from the clan’s care. Not to see something new — there’s nothing he hasn’t seen in villages during the escort missions — but to be independent of commander’s orders, to rely on and worry about only himself. He tells Madara and Izuna about some of his adventures, cussing salesmen and explaining the principles of card games, and always makes sure to bring sweets. 

(and Madara still hasn't told on Obito to father because… well, if something happens, it's his own fault)

This becomes a regular occurance. Obito makes a list of necessities before he brings them to the clansmen without question. For nothing. Just like that.

Or for everyone’s silence, maybe.

Truth is, silence doesn’t last long. Madara who has returned after the mission finds Obito near the creek trying to clean up long bright red cuts on his back.

Somebody reported to Tajima. Tajima answered with a leash.

Madara can’t comprehend what is so bad about his absences, even though at first he judged Obito a bit as well. Many grown-ups don’t show up in the compound for days, so why treat Obito differently?

Or is the deal about Obito skipping a lot of important missions which is, to put it lightly, bad for the clan? About his reluctance to work?

And then Obito leaves. He gently says no to iryounin Yami as she runs up to him, gives Kaori-san a smile, and a few hours later he is gone. 

He is missing the whole next month.

After this month he comes back, gives sweets to little kids, takes spices and silverware to his almost mother Kaori-san and kimono with some jewelry to young women. And ointments, and sewing kits, and kunai made of chakra infusing steel, and about a thousand more things. 

Then the clan head is told of Obito’s arrival.

When Tajima-otou-san — in front of the whole clan — tries to hit Obito (because he deserves it, because he should have been completing missions and listening to the clan head, not wandering god knows where), his hand slips right through the teenager’s body. 

And instead of three tomoe the pattern in Obito’s single red eye appears to be like a three-pronged shuriken.

Madara is staring at the Mangekyou Sharingan with fascination, unable to take his eyes off. He isn’t sure why his heart is pounding loudly and blood is pumping in his ears.

Tajima-otou-san turns around and retreats.

This is strange, perhaps.

As if the situation is left to chance.

A regular warrior would be banned or cut down for such disrespect, but the Mangekyou, even the cripple’s Mangekyou is a whole different story. It grants some advantages.

Next day Obito is missing again. Tajima-otou-san ignores this. Knowing people whisper that Obito was given a long-term mission personally from the clan head.

People whisper that Obito might not return because it is unreal for such a young shinobi to track down a yohei-ninja gang. Even with the Mangekyou. But, to be honest, these people can hardly imagine what the Mangekyou is capable of. 

Yet Obito returns, Obito returns in less than three days without a single scratch or a tear in kimono. He brings the mission reward to Tajima.

And one more time again.

And again.

Madara is under the impression that father just wants Obito to get killed for the insubordination or some of his own far-fetched reasons. Madara has no idea at all how he should react, so he spits on everything and follows Obito’s example. Madara adapts to the situation: he nods at father’s bitter remarks about Obito, mutters something, agreeing with him, and grabs Izuna when comes the time to run to Obito who has just returned and get sweets or other presents.

Things are moving forward, Madara doesn’t see Obito for weeks and more. Later it turns out, he has left for three years and warned Tajima of this. Of course, he hasn’t failed to give him a dozen missions for this time and — according to witnesses — let him go to all four corners of the earth, saying not to return until the missions are accomplished.

Izuna knew this. Madara didn’t.

“You were escorting that stupid hime, have you forgotten?” mumbles Izuna with confusion while his elder brother bites his lips as he tries to understand why the hurt has settled in his soul.

It doesn’t work out.

Either way, Madara ends up with free time and realizes with regret that he has no way of spending it. If he trains more, he will injure himself. If he studies more, he will blow his mind. Izuna has been sent on a mission, his more or less acquaintances are busy. 

At this exact time Madara meets Hashirama. Senju Hashirama as he will find out later, but for now Madara doesn’t care about this nuance.

Hashirama too is somewhat mad at the whole world and lost. Even kind of clever, agile, though imperceptibly tired and given up, despite his constant smiling and piercing optimism.

Madara vaguely remembers why he chose to continue talking with the stranger after his win in the stone-skipping on that fatal river. Maybe, because his optimism, show-off stupidity and calculating glances reminded of Obito who he missed for some reason? Maybe, because his worldviews reminded of himself? 

The child mortality is thought to be a bad conversation topic, although this exact topic let them move from warily distrustful antics to trust. Not complete trust, of course, they can hardly be called friends, they’re more like pals.

“... not to mention that rumor. Do you remember? About those sleepy mercenaries?” Hashirama doesn’t remember. Probably, he doesn’t even know it, and Madara tries to tell the story as colourfully as Obito does. “So once upon a time two Hagaromo stole from the main Alliance daimyo an artefact: a jewel-encrusted pipe. When they cut the chase, they were terribly tired and decided to settle for the night…” 

Half through the story Hashirama jumps up, and his excited cry makes Madara stop.

“Wait, isn't this about three drunk Sarutobi, is it?”

“Maybe Sarutobi, but then the epithet “drunk” can’t be used in a story about the pipe,” bitterly states Madara, and Hashirama sticks out his tongue. 

They are happy. They act up. They do whatever they want, albeit within some boundaries.

He feels easier with Hashirama who is grown-up and rational like him, and it’s just impossible not to revert to the childhood and dump him into the river or knock off the branch (this jerk won’t break his neck, he’s too dexterous). It’s the first time when Madara thinks that he, no, both of them are really children that aren’t ready for wars, blood and responsibilities but are stained with this not just to the elbows but to their ears and higher.

Obito has been right and is still right in his desire to get the hell away from the clan: without all these relatives-subordinates-juniors he can breath so easily, so freely, and no rules are weighing him down, and there’s no need to be pretending that he is a true clan heir.

Izuna wouldn’t understand. Izuna is still loyal to the traditions. Izuna would judge most of Madara’s thoughts because, while he still is his beloved little brother, speaking frankly to him is a death wish.

Obito, maybe, would understand, but the judging criteria of this lazy unpredictable human being are so inside-out that he can leave him to Tajima. Even if he understood, he wouldn’t support him. He would say a truth apparent only to him and then watch Madara’s struggles to understand at least something with his infuriating interest visible in the only eye.

Yet Hashirama doesn't care what is right. Hashirama is tired, but in Madara’s company he can breath slightly easier, so he will laugh and go along, confirming Madara’s musings and in turn sharing his own which are _completely same_.

Madara has longed for understanding so much, and sometimes he can't recall how he managed to live without Hashirama. Without their silly jokes which are mostly meaningless, without their conversations about some idiotic fools and without discussing fresh rumors.

With Obito it’s not like this at all. Obito is nice, Obito understands Madara, but he displays his care in a different way, does everything in a different way, he probably even thinks in an absolutely different way, even though he smiles almost like Hashirama. Just not this tiredly. Obito is strange. And incomprehensible. And… 

(or maybe, he just feels hurt because Obito wanted to leave the clan, and so he did, what a dick)

Soon Madara has to recall times when there was neither Hashirama, nor Obito. His beloved little brother — _biju take you, Izuna, why?!_ — tells father about a boy whose trust his clever elder brother has gained, and Tajima recognizes him as Butsuma’s bastard. 

Senju Butsuma's.

Senju Hashirama has become an outlet that didn't allow Madara to fall and be swept further by the stream of time, his much-needed support.

 _“This story is a thousand times more stupid than yours, Obito,”_ would like to complain Madara, but there's no one to complain to, and there's nowhere to go, no one to turn to with this feeling of global betrayal.

“I never knew you are this cunning, nii-san.” Madara is on the verge of frenzy, though he manages to copy one of Obito’s smiles and messes up Izuna’s tail. 

He won't disappoint little brother. Yes, this was a plan, and tomorrow Senju Butsuma’s bastard as father says will fall into the trap.

Therefore it is extremely amusing — to the point of hysterics — to receive from the opposite bank a stone with kanji written on it. Same kanji that he has just scribbled himself.

_“Run.”_

_“Leave.”_

Behind Madara’s back there are father and Izuna. 

Behind Hashirama’s back there are, probably, Butsuma and his brother. 

And the situation truly reminds of Obito’s wild tales about everything and nothing because such coincidences can't exist, because it can't happen exactly like this, because one of them should have died today, yet both — what a joke of actually-nonexistent-fate — survive, and both get involved into the blood feud, branding each other with something more than a simple betrayal. 

Because they can’t but turn back and protect their little brothers. Because their fathers think in such a similar manner that it isn't even funny, and really, killing each other's sons? How is it possible for this thought to appear in their minds at the same time? 

Because it seems right to take the place in front of his brother, redirecting the kunai that was sent by Butsuma.

But so irreal too because Hashirama completely mirrors his actions.

As always.

Madara looks at the world with crimson one-tomoe eyes, however, for some reason he feels no joy, yet so much melancholy that he’s ready to go and howl in unison with wolves on a full moon. 

Madara has no wish of recalling how they left or what happened next. 

And then there are trainings, missions, father’s assignments and never-ending “must-must-must” without a single chance to draw a free breath. 

The wheel of monotony that was once upon a time stopped by a lazy movement of Obito’s hand has finally patched up and started spinning yet again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Yohei-ninja gang" means in this context a group of clanless shinobi (or renegades from different clans).


	4. Number two: crystal

**…about opaque crystal of the moon and someone's turbid and faded hopes.**

The Inuzuka have broken the agreement. The one who has to deal with this is, of course, Madara. 

The Hyuga have ambushed them again. The one who must gather a squad to retaliate is Madara, and if possible — to head it as well.

The Kamizuru have come down from their mountains once again and are unhurriedly testing the waters: to prey on other’s goods, no doubt. And Madara is the only way out here; does it really matter that the algorithm of actions was worked out long ago, so Yuno or at least Nagisa has to do it if they have a clan head? Let him do the job then. 

Madara is tired. Father has been just recently killed — he must seek vengeance or else it won’t make sense to people; there’s no point in just killing Senju, due to the traditions of blood feuds he should get to Senju Butsuma or else it won’t be proper; they can also expropriate something from their warehouses, preferably everything they’ll see there, especially if they stumble upon healing ointments the clan needs so much.

Madara pretends that he’s able to do anything, that the caravan of food robbed by the Hatake means nothing as the six consequences of the last confrontation with the Sabaku has been just burned. Another seven didn’t leave anything of themselves to be burnt.

Madara wants to hide in a corner and cut down anyone who dares to disturb him. Tajima-otou-sama at the age of nineteen had been leading the clan for two years, two thirds of children live that long at best, yet Madara feels like a five-year-old.

All this… As if it has conspired against him, and somebody who can easily bring the tip of their katana to his chest better be found soon, but no such luck. Even Hashirama isn’t able to deathly wound the Uchiha leader. 

Maybe, he just doesn’t want to. Maybe, he still considers him his friend. Maybe, he’s a real idiot.

The more of an idiot is only Madara.

Madara beats himself up and feels angry: he is weak, his thoughts are shameful for a shinobi, Madara can’t face even himself, how he would manage to face his enemies in this state? Izuna sees, Izuna understands, Izuna scowls and almost growls at the servants, subordinates and close relatives, sorts out reports, conducts clan’s affairs, leaving only the strike team to his brother.

“Rest, brother. A little more, and clansmen won’t stand your killer intent.” Izuna pats him on the shoulder, smoothly pushing his brother towards the temporary camp, then focuses on Hikaku who has come up to him with a report and immediately — without any delay — guides a few morons that are sitting nearby as he finds tasks for them.

Izuna would have made a great clan head — not Madara. Izuna doesn’t feel the pressure of responsibilities on his shoulders, Izuna is incredulous and is able to compel with words anything he pleases, Izuna is perfect — Madara wasn’t created for this. Madara is ready to die at any given moment.

He snaps, leaves in the morning and returns tired, beaten up, _still furious as hell_ by the evening, then he goes to sleep.

This continues for a week.

Izuna doesn’t address the subject of his brother’s state.

“...that's why Itami shouldn't be sent to the village, any merchant would rob him blind.” Madara is listening absent-mindedly.

For some reason Izuna isn’t trying to stir his brother. Even Madara finds this strange: he of all people should have been alarmed the first.

“Naka is freaking out. You know what his last stunt cost us, he’s way out of his line. He’s gonna get killed if this continues, though he has a potential.” Yet he goes on and on about the clan, especially about some of them.

Eventually Baru and Rai are admitted to be quite the pair of intellectuals. The boys are sixteen years old, not little kids anymore as they have passed the age of twelve (the age of the highest mortality), but Izuna is still scared for them: they have no sense of self-preservation whatsoever. They brought a live Senju to the children for a lesson, well, good for them. But what if he escaped and leaked the location and the description of the compound?

In addition to excelling individuals, there are Naori and Naka, one of the most troublesome tandems. Fourteen-year-olds, only one brain for the two of them, lazy Naori’s, Naka, on the other hand, is force, a short temper and a complete lack of something resembling intellect.

And all these people are more important to Izuna than his brother’s state?

The answer is found soon. Izuna slips himself. 

“Well, maybe, morals are low, but everything will change when Obito arrives.”

Madara sits on the tatami near the desk where Izuna usually works and starts thinking. Just thinking.

In five years Obito has been to the compound only once. He returned, gave out presents, brought money to content Tajima and stayed for a few days. 

At that time Izuna was boasting about his genious brother and his Senju scheme, even though it had been three years ago, while Obito was watching with narrowed eyes, then he pursed his lips and said he had other things to do.

Obito either judged Madara or understood more than what had been said. He failed to find out: they didn’t have a chance to meet again for the rest of the day, and then it was too late. 

Madara almost hisses at bewildered Izuna and buries himself in work once more. He needs to approximately estimate next month’s finances, count this month’s costs, choose a few missions for the brats so they won’t even dare to get killed, gather dispersed groups in one place and coordinate an attack on the Senju compound. 

Madara isn’t sure why he begins to count days and live in expectation he can’t comprehend. He tells himself that he is just waiting for the most large-scale battle with their sworn enemies; he understands that he just misses fool Obito who never has enough freedom, who has exchanged the clan for solitude and independence over it. But he hasn’t seen his infuriating patronising grin, heard strange and inside-out, yet familiar stories for so long.

It’s peaceful with Obito. All problems resolve themselves or don’t seem that important anymore, and he doesn’t want to even talk, like he did with Hashirama: Obito will say everything himself, briefly ruffle his hair the way his father did, so you’ll start certainly believing everything is going to be alright. He just needs to figure out how to achieve this, and everything surely is going to be alright. Really, really.

Until then Madara checks the stockpile of kunai and explosive tags, sends shinobi on missions and trainings, consults with Izuna that is still arguing with the elders council. 

Madara keeps delaying the operation until the very last. 

Not for eternity, of course, but at least he’s trying. His actions don’t make any sense because even Izuna comes to discuss with brother the exact date of the operation, and Madara orders through gritted teeth to march out.

He has difficulties understanding what he was waiting for, he has fallen into deep waters of doubts and the maddening fear for something…

_Something…_

Only then, in the middle of the battle Obito appears. As usual — with fanfare and unintended pathos: someone’s kusarigama almost slices in half Hashirama’s face. Only the reflexes trained for years save Senju. The sickle is yanked back by the chain, and Madara has no trouble noticing how Hashirama flinches because of the newcomer’s appearance.

Obito could have been easily mistaken for Madara if not for the scar on the right half of his face. 

He asks to leave. In fact, almost orders because shinobi are ready to flee this instant. The only thing stopping them is Madara.

The clan head.

The taicho of the group and the whole operation.

Madara looks at Hashirama, frozen Senju, dead Butsuma.

And doesn't see a reason to refuse. 

Madara admits: maybe, now it will be a bit better, a bit easier. He will feel a bit less like crushing someone’s skull in a fit of hysterical aggression. He allows himself to hope for something light. Something kind.

But Obito is practically running — away from him or out of habit, who the hell knows — around the compound for two days while Madara has to deal with the deceased, yell at the council and hiss with wild rage at Izuna.

Madara finds Obito only at the bloody moment he is about to leave. 

Again.

Madara has managed to have a few words with him at best, but Obito is already almost gone, Obito is slipping through his fingers like a bonfire haze, there’s no way you can catch it.

“Don't leave.” The clan head shouldn’t be pleading and groveling; Obito is only a scum, a nobody, a bastard from the branch family that miraculously acquired the power of the Mangekyou.

Madara doesn't consider himself a clan head. And never did. A leader in the battles — maybe. A commander out in the field — yes. The one responsible for a bunch of relatives who are trying to survive and earn a living — no doubt.

Madara is only a human. With his own irrational feelings, values defined by time, situation and habits. He’s ashamed of whining and trying with all his power to keep to himself another's sun, another's laughter, another's smile — but it's so tempting to accomplish the impossible. 

So tempting to drown in his glowing eyes and to spit on the routine, blood, obligations, to stop swinging from “shitty” to “shittier” in his futile attempts to find the best solution out of existing.

It’s peaceful with Obito. When he’s around, the paranoia howling deep inside falls asleep and the intuition doesn’t whisper about backstabs with a senbon-kunai-katana. Obito is a wretch, but a wretch that he understands, is familiar and close with. Comfortable with.

And that isn't his.

“Please, stay.” Madara’s voice sounds hoarse, almost howling, canine, lost. Madara relies on Obito with his last ounce of strength since he can’t survive here on his own, he will die without the assistance of Senju or somebody else, it’s easier for him to sink the blade in his own chest than plunge into the Hell. Again.

Obito looks with regret — his ugly scar disgustingly distorts under the red moonlight, and the shuriken-like Mangekyou shines with scarlet — and somewhat embarrassedly laughs, shaking his head.

Obito leaves without a word, vanishes in the Mangekyou technique Kamui, probably not wishing to answer.

And Madara is choking again, he is clawing at his throat with fingernails amidst all this, amidst tired and dead people as he returns to weariness, rings under the eyes and permanent hatred for everything around him.

And who knows — really, there are no defined confines, all of a sudden everything is as translucent as a mist — how much time has passed. Izuna counts, but Madara doesn’t care, it’s all the same to him,

doesn’tcare-doesn’tcare-

(damnitall)

-doesn’tcare.

Sometimes Izuna slips something about five years, then says bitterly:

“…if only otou-sama hadn’t made a mistake, we wouldn’t have get out of… No need to repeat, you know it yourself. But six years is too much in our situation. We are losing, brother.”

During this time Izuna has lost weight, become peaky and started grumbling less about Tobirama, Butsuma’s second bastard, Hashirama’s albino brother. While at first he was swearing to murder him, then he started analyzing thoroughly his actions and later the techniques _created_ by the boy, now the only thing you can draw from Izuna is gratuitous insults.

Like before.

Not that Madara dislikes this tendency it just gives rise to doubt and a ~~thousandth~~ reason to panic.

Something is clearly wrong with Izuna, he has made up his mind about something or learnt something important. But he, obviously, won’t tell: he will carry the burden of responsibility for this mystery, this secret because he is mature, independent and all stuff like that. 

Anyway, if Madara decides to crack his brother, he completes this objective, and after a few days Izuna gives up.

“That red-eyed freak came up with the idea to form an alliance with the Hyuga through the marriage with the clan head’s daughter.” The alliance with the Hyuga is bad. One of the most powerful clans after the Senju and Uchiha clans that is, upon request, obliged to aid “their fellow men” in military actions which are mainly waged against the Uchiha.

Not only Izuna wants to gratuitously insult Tobirama now, though Madara restraines himself.

Still, what a sly bitc-

 _“Unless, of course, this was indeed his idea,"_ halts Madara and voices the same thing to his brother. Izuna dismisses it:

“Then who? Who has enough wits and will make enough efforts to achieve this? What, Hashirama or that stupid Touka?”

Madara prefers to know and assume nothing about Senju Touka (he once walked past the half-dead body, disdainful of finishing her off, it turns out he should have). However, Izuna is wrong about Hashirama.

Hashirama prefers to stay low. He became a clan leader later than Madara, he’s a good fighter, and yes, perhaps no one is discussed as much as Hashirama’s genious brother, Tobirama. And while Madara believes in the created techniques — Hashirama is just on another level, he doesn’t need such crutches — some of his ideas reek of risk that cold-blooded Senju would hardly ever take. If the situation was more desperate, maybe, but not in this scenario.

So — as Madara thinks — the Senju doesn’t require the Hyuga’s power. And their attempt — exactly an attempt because you can’t calculate everything regarding these snobs — to form an alliance looks like a simply unnecessary risk. So Hashirama is definitely involved in this.

(though he surely dumped the execution of this idea on Tobirama, no need to think about that one)

Time goes, the Hyuga were messing about, and the Senju clan got really angry with them for some reason. Some were talking about the stained honour, others were pursing their lips at the mention of the Senju.

Luckily, the Uchiha clan wasn’t affected by those games.

Madara deals with the duties, leads shinobi groups in the field, buries his nephews and other distant relatives. He has made a habit of never pondering about anything and pretends to be an almighty leader that the young shinobi look up to and that is appealing to the girls from the beginning of their puberty and to their death. 

Madara would agree to die at any given moment if somebody asked him.

In the end, the one who dies is Izuna. 

Izuna is twenty-four. Black hair, scrawny face and the absence of blind eyes with the Mangekyou, the eyes the clan head now is looking at his brother with.

Izuna is dying.

Madara damns everyone. Mother, father, brothers, Hashirama with his sick brother, fucking Obito who doesn’t care about anything, except for himself. Madara is tired of blaming himself so he blames others. It’s not like he feels much easier, but it’s significantly simpler to justify himself.

Madara is enraged while his brother is wheezing and writhing. Yes, he looks at the world with Izuna’s eyes, but to see his death is more than he can possibly handle.

Madara disgracefully runs into the forest.

And when he returns, Izuna is sitting near Obito and ordering around excited clan members, from time to time coughing, from time to time complaining about dumb relatives that can’t be left unsupervised due to a valid reason (death) for a couple of days.

Obito is peacefully sleeping near the extinguished bonfire. The circles under his eyes visible even now, the kimono dirty, the soles of his sandals worn almost to holes. He has just returned and seems to be terribly tired.

And deathly wounded Izuna is alive.

“Brother, people from the borders with Branch provin…ugh, now Branch country are complaining about bugs. Looks like the daimyo hired the Aburame. Our lady,” Izuna grimaces as he mentions the daimyo that applied to the Uchiha clan, “is concerned. We have to check. Wanna do it?”

Madara abruptly nods without a second thought and enters the tent to grab the equipment: you must prepare to the attack on the Aburame carefully as ever.

The sunset of the day is awfully red.

As Madara gathers the squad in the evening, he glances at still shamelessly sleeping Obito and Izuna who is leaning on him.

(and there’s no forgiveness for you, Obito, you wretch, because, to Madara’s great regret, you can only be forgiven for brother’s timely rescue)

When he comes back — after two weeks — Obito is absent again. There’s no mention of him, apart from completely healthy Izuna and a sachet with different sweets in Madara’s room.

Madara would say something like “I’m not a child anymore”, but there’s no one he could grumble at, so he leisurely eats all his sweets in front of drooling Izuna with his raging sweet tooth — he ate his own share long ago, so he better quit drooling over other’s goods — and when he wakes up one night, he stares for a long time at the faded red moon surrounded by the maroon clouds.

Izuna — back then, in distant childhood — was wrong: sometimes the moon truly seems as transparent as crystal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any mistakes


	5. Subnumber two of number two

**…about crystal tears that will never spill.**

Within six years he got used.

To consistent workload, responsibility, Leaf village and the presence of restless Hashirama by his side.

The creation of the village happened in a silly way : after a scouting mission to one of Senju’s smaller settlements, Madara was brought building blueprints, a rough development plan, necessary alliance treaties and an outline of the state system. Madara thought for a long time what to do with all this stuff.

For some reason he decided to give it back. Cleansed and with corrected errors.

Personally.

Maybe, he hoped for the better. Maybe, he was embarrassed about admitting how long he had been dreaming of this, how much he had been musing about their childhood dream. Ever since.

Then Tobirama brought back the blueprints and other documents, running into Izuna, and considering they were in the Uchiha compound it was hardly surprising, yet still dubious: Tobirama, by definition, couldn’t have come that far into the territory controlled by the Uchiha.

The documents appeared to be supplemented and in some cases rewritten. Some parts of the notes were briefly announced by Tobirama. The neat, unlike Hashirama’s, handwriting pointed out the person who had censored the notes.

And it was fairly easy, albeit a bit strange to understand why the clan fervently supported their leader — the approving silence after the statement about the alliance with the Senju can't be interpreted any other way. 

Still, no one from the Uchiha would be able to forgive the Senju completely. In fact, no one did, they just keep quiet for the meantime, gathering strength, and what wipould come out of this wasn't important. When it did, they would deal with it. The only one who was opposed to the alliance with sworn enemies was Izuna, though it was without passion and just out of habit.

The clansmen suddenly remembered that all shinobi were just mercenaries, that it just happened so that the two clans became the strongest and warring daimyo started hiring them, and later they made it a habit. 

That nobody was to blame for the prevailing circumstances. 

If Madara hadn't listened to Obito’s stories, he would have believed. Even though he couldn't completely — that was what his mind whispered, not his heart — believe the clansman who had left and was wandering somewhere, his version of events made him doubt the reality anyway. So Madara just chuckled but didn't interfere in the relatives’ chats. Who was he to disturb their delusions about the reality?

And they were preparing to the tedious ceremonies that were needed only to the elders of both clans, Madara was throwing bored glances at them with Hashirama, and he saw the same boredom in Senju’s eyes when Izuna was burning a hole in Tobirama’s kimono.

(not with his glares, but, in all honesty, after the shower that younger Senju had given to his little brother at the end of the last meeting they could safely ignore this circus)

Frankly speaking, Madara couldn't imagine how the two clans would coexist until they left their habitats (it’s hard to remember how many missions from daimyo they had to send to hell) and came to the long-ago spotted valley where the Senju appear a bit later.

At first, Madara tries to somehow supervise them, but by the afternoon of the third day he has just ended yet another fight by the means of hitting their heads against the ground — for propriety's sake, both Uchiha and Senju were hurt — and then has promised to impale everyone here on spikes.

(because his clan head’s authority doesn't work anymore, they simply nod at his words, like bobbleheads, ask for forgiveness and a few minutes later start hissing at Senju again, these degenerates; the only good thing is Hashirama has the same problem)

Victims howl about their wounded pride and honour, except Madara is ready to wound anyone’s pride as long as the unrest ends, as long as the peace they struggled to make doesn’t fall to pieces.

Tobirama doesn't approve of such an approach.

Hashirama stays silent, yet his cunning expression tells he wholly supports Madara. 

Thanks to Madara accidents are ten times rarer, the construction of buildings is suddenly picking up. Some of them are created by Hashirama and a couple of weaklings out of the whole clan who managed to master the Wood release, but the most are built manually.

(because of the continuation of the circus in the form of beams falling on the heads, equipment coincidentally thrown to the wrong direction, and Tobirama with Izuna who joined the mess Madara had to make arrangements with Hashirama regarding a paralyzing poison that they forcibly poured into everyone they had caught and then pushed them on their knees on the main square: as a warning) 

(Hashirama still wasn’t all that opposed to this, unlike his bellowing brother who was tied beforehand and Izuna was lying nearby and rabidly spinning his eyes)

(Madara and Hashirama couldn’t help but sigh, muttering “dumb like little children”)

Later it somehow settles down. Maybe Madara’s therapy with all possible (but obstinately hidden) support of the Senju leader had its effect, maybe the passed time helped, and they have manage to build the village from the ground up in a little less than four months, most of them are spent, rebuilding what was accidentally (or deliberately, it depends on how lucky your lies were and whether the clan heads would believe you about these coincidences) destroyed.

And then the real Hell begins as it was described by infamous Obito who still hasn’t honored Madara with his attention: the preparation to the meeting with the daimyo of the medium-sized Land of Fire that was a province ten years ago and now is the core of the Ash Alliance.

Actually, the Hell isn’t the meeting with the daimyo itself but the need to explain what the dear shinobi want from him.

The dear shinobi don’t want much: they want to become Fire country's standing army with notional autonomy and, of course, financial support from the nobility. And to become the main centre of taking and completing missions in the Land of Fire (and, consequently, in the most parts of the Alliance), this will cause an uproar among other clans as one of the counselors wisely supplied. Or make them join the Senju and Uchiha’s settlement. The Hidden Village of the Land of Fire. They haven’t thought of a name, though they can take their time.

Izuna and Tobirama are dealing with all mentioned above political stuff in the presence of Hashirama. Madara genuinely can't stand everything involving aristocracy and politics in general, so he has chosen to distance himself.

He understands the meaning of the treaty with the daimyo only when Izuna explains him the whole thing in detail, no sooner. The aim was simple before: build the village, live there, kill enemies. That would be basically all. Well, maybe they would have to agree with the daimyo on the land lease or something like that. Meaning, shinobi would pay for living.

However, Izuna — it has been his idea — suggests something more ingenious.

Not only they won't pay the daimyo a ryo for living on his territory, not only shinobi will get money just for existing plus a possibility of an allowance for some future projects, not only all orders and mission contracts from the country and surrounding areas will pass through the village, but this way all other clans wil be drawn to the settlement.

Maybe, other clans won’t like this as rightly observed the Senju advisor, but they won't be able to do anything.

Other clans won't dare to go against the alliance.

Only Uchiha can defeat Senju and vice versa; so who can defeat the alliance of the Senju and the Uchiha? In fact, other clans have no choice. They will either join them or move to other territories where spheres of influence were divided long ago. And that would be a disastrous failure. Perhaps, the Hyuga have a chance, but not smaller clans.

Would the Kamizuru let the Aburame use their meadows and other gifts of the mountain chains? They’d rather die, getting rid of them. Not to mention the archipelago where you will get killed for any intent of possible encroachment by the Hozuki, the Kaguya or the Yuki. Only the most desperate would wander into the deserts. Other parts of the mountains are controlled by such shinobi that it is hard to say what clans they are from; they all have mixed in factions. Yet if need be, they will unite for the sake of protecting their territories. They learnt this lesson, both Senju and Uchiha fought in those areas, so the factions’ reaction is well-known and predictable.

Madara tries to comprehend: would he have ever thought of such a stunt? And honestly, he doesn't know the answer.

That’s why Izuna will never tell it was Obito’s idea. Yes, someday the Uchiha with the Senju would have come up with such an elegant move, but how much time would have passed until then? How many opportunities would have passed and how much efforts would they have wasted, stopping smaller clans?

So Madara keep sincerely admiring the political talent of Hashirama and his little brothers. 

But that hasn't changed the problem of Hell.

They have thought of everything. Thought carefully, no one argues with that. But who said the daimyo would agree? Fulfill all the conditions? Wouldn’t make his own at the expense of shinobi? Even though the daimyo would get a personal army that is ready to rep people’s throats as soon as they were given an order, someday the war would end. Someday the daimyo would need only simple request such as escorting or tracking to be done, and what would be the point of maintaining shinobi if he could hire somebody from free clans for less without bothering to send a request to the village?

Izuna shrugs. He says:

“We hope for a contract for living here and financial support for some period of time. The rest is a long time perspective if we succeed. If we don’t fall apart.”

Madara doesn't like this if. It’s somehow blurred and imprecise, and it seems straightaway: we will definitely fall apart. Unable to coexist. Our ancestors were unable, so how would their generation manage it?

Madara keeps thinking. Madara estimates that after combining all ifs something grandiose will emerge. 

Because _when_ the clans join them, when the daimyo has _already_ the contract, when he and other clans _won't have any other choice_ , the Hidden Village will gain power and force.

Make the daimyo defer to them.

Make clans cling to each other.

Madara looks at smiling Hashirama,

(so much risk, so many wild ifs can lead threads by threads only to his old not-a-friend, in his opinion)

and he doesn’t really feel scared.

(and Izuna will keep a secret until the end that it was Obito who told him about the clans’ customs in childhood, that it was Obito who a bit later instructed him about the foul daimyo, that it was Obito who once imagined almost all the notes about the future development of the village and its internal structures in his stupid stories)

Anyway, Hashirama manages to persuade the daimyo, practically falling over himself in the name of the village. And old geezer almost agrees to sign the prepared and formulated treaty when he comes up with a question: who is going to be in charge. After him, of course.

Hashirama can’t give a proper answer. He doesn't know. Really doesn’t. Hashirama is thinking about nominating Madara while others — some Uchihas too — consider Hashirama the village leader.

And Hashirama truthfully comes back to _Konoha_ (Madara swears from now on he will never make jokes around the older Senju: he takes part of Uchiha’s nonsense seriously, and poor Uchiha didn’t even dream about such a stupid village, suggesting it) to truthfully ask the population who they will choose.

Or rather, Hashirama would put Madara in charge without a second thought, Madara struggles to realize all the idiocy of this situation, and Izuna finally punches Tobirama in the face with a clear conscience, and no one tries to break it up.

Because it was Tobirama who suggested asking the citizens’ opinion on their village leader. All Hashirama did was agree with his brother. So Tobirama insulted — as Izuna believes — his brother just with this suggestion.

Madara doesn't care much who will be the village leader. The Uchiha clan won't be prevented from its governance no matter what they do.

(his little brother says so, smiling with anticipation, and Madara doesn’t want to know what he is planning; at the very least he can make Hashirama create some co-ruling position for the Uchiha or something like that)

And the treaty is signed. With a lot of clauses and pitfalls that were missed by shinobi and that will give them trouble in future, but they sign it. Hashirama becomes the _Hokage_ (this time the one who is entirely to blame for the title’s name is the Shodai Hokage, honestly), and three weeks later the first echoes of changes appear.

Some of the countries, as call themselves former provinces of the once large country and earlier the Empire, don’t agree with the treaty conditions and wish to secede from the Alliance. Little countries like the country of Rivers, Grass or Rain.

Madara is even amused: let them fend off the nomads on their own, protect their territories from the Kamizuru or other clans that are involved with these little devils who took over the many.

Idiots.

One way or another, they have to organize the incoming missions — why was this job dumped on Madara? Does he have nothing better to do or something? — and gather teams for their completion. And in order to do that he should learn more about the Senju because he can’t send only the Uchiha: the Senju would be offended. However, even separate groups of clans aren’t enough, he has to assign the same mission to at least two people from both clan. And, unfortunately, he can’t always assign it to calm ones: he has to choose from the people remaining in the village, and in this case, it all depends on luck.

Madara guesses why he was asked to deal with missions in a couple of days; no one apart from him would be able to make an Uchiha and a Senju work together.

(the clansmen would spit on Hashirama long ago no matter what he did; and even if he did something, they would go to Madara and start a riot, that’s for sure)

(it’s the same problem with Tobirama, though they would try to slaughter him first, in contrast to his brother)

(all Senju together would try to beat up Izuna, the Uchiha would take that as a personal affront, and it wouldn’t be long till new strife began)

When Madara repeats for the fortieth time the cherished parting words “Work together or die for the sake of the mission”, something tells him it’s not the way to go about, he should take it easier on them, but how can he take it easier — as insists Tobirama that murdered the Senju elders impeding them — when those fools have started a fight right in front of some hime? Destroyed someone’s mansion? Or killed the opponent in front of the client?

(this circus is out of line; who can tell how to push it back when even Hashirama doesn’t know that?)

The problem solves itself because of the opposing Aburame, Hatake and Yuhi. This alliance isn’t dangerous for the two great clans. Instead, the Uchiha and the Senju, shedding blood together, finally let it go. There are still taunts and sneers, there are still mutual grudges, but they have forgotten about blood vengeance.

Not all of them, but the most of the shinobi.

After the quick victory, the first clans to join them are the Nara and the Yamanaka that has followed them.

Then the Hatake and the Yuhi came after nursing their wounds.

The Aburame, the Inuzuka and the Akimichi show up after them.

The last ones are the Shimura and the Sarutobi. The small Koharu clan. That has almost gone extinct as a result of the long-standing war with the Homura clam.

The stupid dream is becoming material, taking roots in the universe and has steadily settled under the mountain with Hashirama’s face that some clans have decided to create as a symbol. It is strange, crazy, unreal.

Yet it is. The village with its symbol, a weird squiggle on a hitai-ate, has come true. Walk down the street, and you’ll see members of different clans, walking past you. 

And they won’t try to kill each other. Not right now and, at least, not in front of everyone.

“Told you we would create a place where children didn’t need to take kunai in their hands since childhood,” and "not only that" is hinted in his words, and Madara ignores it out of habit.

In fact, Hashirama has created a full state apparatus (and with its help the daimyo of the Fire country has made other Alliance countries submit), even though it’s conditionally military. The largest structure on the earth: nothing can rival Konohagakure no Sato in strength.

Well, maybe except for Kamizuru and a bunch of clans that joined them as they are thinking of creating their own Hidden village on the territory of the Earth country's daimyo.

“I still can hardly believe in this.”

In the peace between clans, in the possibility of it all.

Could Tajima-otou-san have ever believed that the clan wouldn’t strive to eliminate the Senju? Moreover, would drink and feast with them, would just have a good time with them?

Unlikely.

And slowly, steadily, Konoha is developing.

Tobirama classifies missions all the way through, ranks them. Izuna works on shinobi groups, wrecking his brains as he tries to separate weaker and stronger ones. Madara habitually keeps order. Apparently, they want to dump on him the creation of a police force or something along those lines, though he avoids giving a positive reply for now.

Hashirama goes ahead (one more of his risky ideas): he invites merchants and craftsmen to the village. In a way it reinforces the status of the village too. It’s worth a lot to become one of the trading towns on the way of trade caravans, an outlet. And it is also, at the very least, nice to have an armory or clothing store close by as clothes are always needed and often wasted during missions.

Merchants and craftsmen are reluctant to come. They have to make concessions, Izuna is arguing with Tobirama, but they soon write the list of favourable terms together.

Taxes from the merchants are one more point in the column of Konoha’s income, and they cannot but welcome it.

It logically occurs that with merchants come civilians. Wary, they settle near shinobi. Find jobs in shops,in taverns-restaurants-bars built in haste. 

The village keeps growing. Madara thinks this is incredible because, in fact, it really is.

Because even though they have to fend off attacks from the archipelago where shinobi have coalesced into the establishment called Kirigakure, even though there are more problems than they can count Madara won’t trade the settlement with the stupid name Konoha for anything.

Because Hashirama has created something greater than just a village or an outlet, a state structure. Hashirama has made a home for many mercenaries-shinobi that were wandering from one client to another.

No one has ever dreamed of that.

And now, after the battles, after the long travels that were so nerve-wracking for them they have a place to return to.

So everything is stabilizing.

Seemingly.

On a normal day Madara can't get anything right.

On that day when it's as if he feels something familiar in the back of his mind and Tobirama says someone with great chakra reserves is heading to the village, Madara tries to concentrate on the work, snaps at subordinates and finally points out Izuna’s excessive addiction to brothels, threatening to marry his little brother off (consequently, Izuna doesn’t appear within sight till the next day).

And he can't take it any longer, he leaves everything to the Hokage and Tobirama and runs off to the pulsating entity of kindred chakra.

When Madara sees Obito near the gates, when he hears a surprised:

“You haven’t changed at all, Madara,” he thinks it would've been better if the one who became closer than friend and brother had left forever. Never returned. And the memory about him would have blurred with time, his words would have drowned in the banality of each day, and his voice would have been forgotten like a dream.

When Obito brightly smiles, informing him in a carefree voice:

“Hope you have work for me because I plan to stay here for a long time,” Madara has nothing else to do than summon the smithereens of his will power and answer nervously: 

“Welcome back, Obito.”

And somehow live with this.


	6. Number three: moon

White ships, white ships

are floating in the sky,

white ships, white ships

are carrying the rain.

 

a children's song.

 

**…about the young moon.**

When Obito returns to the clan, he receives a really warm welcome from his old acquaintances and miraculously alive elders.

The latter is the most suspicious. They fawn over him, nod paternalistically, and they obviously count on something.

Unlike Madara.

Madara hisses, telling to shove off and stop disturbing him, Madara isn’t really avoiding him as he is actually busy most of the days-weeks-months, though he always finds an excuse not to spend time together.

Obito racks his brains and tries to find the reason for such a strange reaction.

Almost finds.

And this reason, rare sideways glances, unsaid words and silenced offers that he sees in his eyes, gestures, even in his preposterous sighs, and if you know his habits and where to look at, then, in all honesty

damn-damn-damn.

Obito is a good sensor. The half of the body made of Hashirama’s cells helps a bit in this difficult task, the Sharingan complements minor facts, his own experience compares details, hurriedly creating a consistent picture.

Obito summarizes all the scattered memories of Madara.

It’s not like he wants to laugh hysterically.

But he’s somewhere close to it.

Uchiha Madara, the world terror at the Warring States Era and Fourth Shinobi War — how to put it — has deigned to

_fall in love._

With him. With Obito. Just Obito who did nothing at all for somebody to love him.

Yes, he played a role in the formation of the current clan head and his brother’s identities, but he didn’t really put an effort.

Anyway, how can you love someone you see once in a decade at best?

Obito sits on the tatami in the room that was given him. There are stacks of clan documents in front of him.

(and Kami forbid anyone should ask how they got here)

Madara fell in love with the arrogant strange boy, and now he probably combines running the village with his attempts to calm down after the extremely sudden appearance of Obito. Familiar and unfamiliar Obito.

Madara doesn’t notice a coup preparing against him. Elders are gathering strength, biding their time and fueling the hate of common shinobi. Shinobi are obediently striving to fight, they wish to do something, to somehow change the world around them and to live. To take revenge on the insolent Senju and a bit on other clans because not many Uchiha abandoned the idea of blood vengeance.

This really looks like a joke.

Obito has long hair, a squinted glare, and a cheeky smile. Reckless grace is etched into everything he does.

His whole demeanor is appealing. The clansmen have forgotten his bickering with Tajima, arbitrary absences for weeks-months-years, they remember only his strength and stunning ability to lead and guide.

(this ability was honed eighty-years-later during the sabotage of Kirigakure no Sato and his comparatively successful attempts to rally the Akatsuki, and in comparison to them the Uchiha clan seems more like overfed and trained kittens than desperate cut-throats)

The clansmen want to overthrow Madara because, as a clan head, he’s obsolete, but Izuna-sama will never dare or let someone to go against his brother. Obito, on the other hand, — the one with the character almost like Tajima’s, the one with the face as if Tajima’s, the one who is so Tajima, yet isn’t him — fits the clan head’s role without a question.

Obito is too Tajima in clansmen’s eyes. In fact, the clan claimed long ago that he’s Tajima’s illegitimate son, only Obito knows nothing of this. Yes, he treats people a bit differently, but that’s pardonable.

So Obito thinks.

Obito finally managed to find Zetsu and seal him. He spent more than twenty years on this, it had become his only purpose in this world, the reason for living. All to prevent from repeating the shinobi history created by Kaguya’s third son. But all the same, Zetsu has already done too much to change the timeline.

Madara will be betrayed by the clan anyway. Has already been betrayed. And he will grow angry, he will go insane, he will break down.

And the story will return the world back on track.

Zetsu doesn’t exist anymore, Zetsu is sealed and won’t be able to get out of burnt scroll for obvious reasons, but something tells Obito: Kaguya’s story will find its audience — already found, he told it himself to little Madara, such an idiot — and he will remember the Infinite Tsukuyomi, and all the events will repeat themselves right up to the Fourth Shinobi War.

Obito can’t let that happen.

Obito is at a crossroads.

He is incredibly powerful, he survived his two deaths, outlived Uzumaki Naruto and spiteful Tajima who in a way really was like a father to him with his constant habit of mentoring him, however, Obito has no idea what to do.

He wishes he had Shisui’s power here. Kotoamatsukami would solve all the problems quickly if you had the strength to wield it. Or Kakashi, he would surely find the major points of this situation and steer it in the right direction. Or Minato-sensei. Especially Minato-sensei because Obito has never known a man so cunning in his entire life: not only he would turn the events in his favor but benefit from every step at the same time.

Obito has never thought like Minato-sensei did. He could pretend to be naive as much as he wanted (sometimes he didn’t even pretend), but, unfortunately, he couldn't analyze so expertly.

“How are you going to deal with it?” Izuna jumps into the open window. Izuna flashes the Mangekyou, ready to attack at any second, but Obito doesn’t even twitch.

“With what? I’ve just planned to settle down in Konoha.” Izuna angrily huffs. Obito derisively squints his eyes with an understanding smile.

Konoha.

Konoha is advanced, advanced approximately a few decades before it should have. The main changes happened during and after the First Shinobi War, yet in this timeline, they have already created the ANBU, categorized shinobi ranks and their responsibilities, even the administration.

In this timeline, the treaty with the daimyo was concluded when the Village was founded. There will be neither the alliance with the Uzumaki nor Gokage Kaidan where were sold eight out of nine caught bijuu to get the money for Konoha’s development.

Actually, no one has caught bijuu.

Because they don't exist.

There are Datara, Deidarabotchi, and its other names.

There is Shinju. The tree in one of the small countries, and almost everything blooms near it. And if you don't shed blood on that earth, it will grow for many years.

Things aren’t as simple concerning the tree and its role in the world as he’d like.

“Stop! You know what's going on in the clan!” Obito is studying Izuna for some time before he takes a chance and speaks out.

“ _You_ do know what's going on in the clan, Izuna-kun, then tell me what have _you_ done? Have you stopped the unrest? Shut up the elders and troublemakers? You could have, your place in the clan is just a little lower than Madara's, so what have _you_ done?”

Obito knows that this accusation is undeserved, that Izuna has been running more than a hamster in a wheel, trying to handle everything, that if it had been within his power, Izuna would have prevented everything, shut up the others and civilized the rest of the clan. His fussing doesn’t achieve any results.

And Izuna fully knows of Obito’s awareness.

“It's impossible. They've already… Brother thinks it's my paranoia. You evaded answering.”

Izuna is nervous. Obito keeps fearlessly staring into his Mangekyou and wonders if this disheveled almost-Sasuke understood why his vision had stopped deteriorating with the usage of his powers.

Even a small amount of Senju’s chakra, of Ashura’s chakra and power, is enough to neutralize “the Uchiha's curse”. While assembling Izuna’s intestines that had been profoundly messed up by Tobirama, he had to not only pour chakra but to remember how to grow white Zetsu’s flesh from Hashirama’s cells, the most malleable material — Obito still doesn’t know of anything similar.

(and well, he had to tear out these cells from his own body, he couldn’t ask the original to provide a sample of skin, or better yet, of flesh, could he?)

Izuna owes his eyes to Obito and his collection stored in the Kamui dimension since the clan’s assassination seventy-or-less-years-later. After all, Madara didn’t think of transplanting his eyes to dying brother, and sorry scraps of his conscience didn’t let him leave Izuna blind.

“I didn’t. It's just that you didn’t like my answer.”

“Well. Then-”

“Then you’ll cut my head off? Think of the consequences, Izuna-kun. About your helplessness before me and about what would happen if you did manage to kill me. You won't like both outcomes.”

Izuna tries to argue, to stand for something known only to him.

And trails off.

Calms down.

“Too much certainty for you. You know if you don’t talk nonsense with some incomprehensible philosophical subtext, then it means, you’ve decided something. This habit always failed you.”

Obito won’t mention his decade-long absence, the possibility of the personality change and other holes in Izuna’s theory. He managed to figure out the main point and voice it.

Obito is still a fool, strange Obito from the Uchiha who always mixes up his stories and therefore rarely speaks clearly.

“You’ve grown, Izuna-kun.”

Izuna cringes, out of habit rather than anything he impatiently places his hand on the hilt of the katana. Disrespect and the most apparent hint, though Obito deliberately ignores the gesture.

“Glad you finally noticed. But my question is the same, what will you do?”

Obito doesn’t rush to reply.

Izuna thinks Obito benefits from eliminating Madara during the uprising, if not from becoming the clan head.

Madara is a too unpredictable variable. And this variable is so easy to calculate at the same time. But too many things depend on Madara — Indra as yet. There’s no place for mistakes.

As for a shinobi, as for the pupil of one old man with a stupid habit of leaning on a scythe instead of a crutch, as for the man who almost plunged the world into madness, the answer is obvious.

_This opportunity shouldn’t be missed because the appearance of the next one is extremely doubtful._

(because all the circumstances are perfect because it will cause the least resonance in the society, because…)

He should agree to the — yet — unstated offer of the clan’s fraction.

But every time he thinks like this Obito remembers his own conclusions.

Ridiculous “Uchiha Madara has deigned to _fall in love_ ” doesn’t make him laugh anymore, instead he reminiscences their gatherings near the bonfire in the (second) childhood, the boy who trustingly listened to Obito’s every word and their frequent cosy bickering over nothing.

Obito, apparently, is even disgusted.

Disgusted by himself, even though his actions completely fit the morals of these times. Because sometimes you need to sacrifice something. It is tacitly written in the shinobi code, it is visible between the lines of S-rank missions. Not in the name of the mission, but the peace.

Even if you need to sacrifice yourself.

Even if you need to sacrifice someone who will rip anyone’s throat for your sake.

“I wish I knew.”

Izuna can’t hold out again. Nervously, fiddling the sleeve of the kimono, he shouts furiously:

“Why do you doubt?! You’re on my brother’s side, so what’s there to think about?!”

Obito shrugs. He won’t ask Izuna why he doubted him when he barged into his room, ready to kill him for a wrong word.

He will tell the truth.

“What makes you think like that? First of all, I’m on my own side.”

Izuna stays silent for a long time. He glares at Obito with the Mangekyou, then closes his eyes, deactivating the doujutsu.

“Then I suggest you make the right choice.”

And leaves through the window.

Obito can't help but chuckle.

The _right_ choice, Izuna, isn’t the one you expect.

Obito just “forgets” about the conversation they had, he explores Konoha and settles in a new house. He barely managed to buy it, honestly. He had to get some acquaintances involved, but it was worth it.

Eighty years later — or a bit less, after all, the compound had been rebuilt a few times by the Fourth Shinobi War — it won’t change much. There are no old paintings and vases somebody brought from the missions, no canvas with ideally drawn kanjis that was hanging in front of the entrance, no… There is nothing. Except for the house. Except for the grounds around it.

And Obito patiently fills the empty space. Obito is a Konohagakure shinobi with a respective hitai-ate now, so he has every right to complete missions ranging from D to A. They won’t trust him with something higher, and there's no need for that: there are comparatively a lot of missions, he has more than enough money for food and other things.

He is ignoring the elders poking around. He isn’t doing it deliberately, Obito still just doesn’t know what to do, he is just confused and lets things slide, he is just running away from the responsibility and the unfolding pictures of the future.

He probably has enough power to kill Madara. If need be.

Sometimes Izuna glares at him with angry eyes, but he has much more problems than Obito does, so there’s no time left for the prodigal relative.

Obito doesn't mind.

Obito settles in familiar-unfamiliar Konoha. Meets new people outside the clan, hangs out with the Senju and the Hatake.

Kakashi’s relatives have in common with him only looks, definitely not the character.

Madara still prefers not to come across Obito. Although, he doesn’t really come across the whole clan. The only exception is Izuna, and even he doesn't get much attention.

Obito unwittingly realizes it isn't just bad, it totally sucks.

Madara is stuck in business, in Konoha and somewhere in the state apparatus, without noticing he gets into politics and economics as he asks for a larger budget for unexpected expenses or attends daimyo’s meetings when neither Hashirama nor Tobirama has time for that.

Obito knows how to listen and hear. At first, he thought the Uchiha were the problem, but later the situation cleared up. A coup against a coup. Shinobi believe Hashirama is the better leader, aristocrats have realized what’s going on and where it will lead, they contemplate how to approach Hashirama and choose Madara as a more easily manipulated target, while the people in the latter’s clan concern themselves with a takeover.

He wonders if Izuna knows about the shift in civilian upper class? Unlikely.

Obito tells himself it will benefit him, and anyway, the situation will go downhill even without Zetsu, Madara will leave, etcetera, etcetera. The difference is just that the situation may result in a civil war. Not necessarily, but considering aristocrats’ schemes and abilities, considering the clans, like the Inuzuka and the Akimichi, that still hasn’t resigned, yet joined them, this is quite possible.

Obito can tell himself whatever he wants. He feels the other way.

(he is still disgusted-disgusted-disgusted by himself)

Because Izuna is right, resenting Obito. Because Obito is right in his desire to prevent the horrible future. Because the new moon paints the sky in silvery-grey, and the moon isn't crystal at all.

Obito smiles. Obito fools around, makes jokes without any sense and eats sweets, filling with them the void inside him, like he used to do.

And it was so long ago that he can’t really remember when.

Obito is a fool. And Izuna was right about this too. And about his opinion on his stories in distant childhood as well.

His tales aren’t meant for these times. His fiction and facts torn out of history are unneeded.

Then why did he really..?

Obito looks in the mirror and finally cuts his messy hair to the familiar short spikes, he observes Izuna’s four “favorites” that are creating Izanami and Izanagi. Even though these enthusiasts are not involved in the coup. Obito heals their wounds and smacks them over the heads periodically.

However, he can heal wounds such as messed up liver only with the use of Hashirama’s cells. And in these cases he should have called an iryonin, but Obito is too lazy for that even if some senor may feel the echoes of Senju chakra, causing gossips.  

Though they are already gossiping. Because, while Hashirama’s chakra can’t be sensed in Obito’s body, even a sorry excuse for a sensor, like Naka, has noticed the traits similar to Senju. Obito lets these rumors pass by himself and his tender psyche.

Obito laughs. He observes how the clansmen prepare for the first stage of overthrowing Madara. Izuna wants to prevent the coup, but how can he accomplish it nearly alone — a few followers don’t count, and he can’t ask for Senjus’ support, can he? — when his death is the priority in the plan?

Without Izuna, his moral anchor, Madara will definitely lose his mind. And it will soon come to mistakes. To obsession. To madness.

The first stage is the most important, then it will become easier. Madara will do all the work for the clansmen, and the only thing left to do will be to finish him off.

Be it physically or some other way, it doesn’t matter.

Obito clenches his teeth and still remains idle. He wears Konoha’s protector on the forehead and sometimes takes missions.

They are psychos. Murders. Not little kids. They will get out somehow. Maybe.

If they do, Obito will cut them down the first.

Because rabid dogs are killed without a second thought. And after getting out of this shit, brothers will be just that.

Obito observes the preparations for the Shodai Hokage and his clanswoman’s wedding and knows in advance this is the best opportunity to attack.

Obito shouldn’t have returned. If he couldn’t bring himself to do so, then he should have just stayed for a few weeks and left again — he didn’t have enough willpower even for that.

Obito has returned to his home. His own home with its rooftop where you can clearly see Hokage’s faces — just one face for the time being, the road to the Hokage tower and the compound’s guard post. He has returned to the society that is a terrible mess of different clans and traditions brought by some civilians.

He has returned to the place where problems seem irrelevant and solvable.

Except for one. But soon it will cease to be. There's nothing to worry about.

Finally, Obito can let out a calm breath, he doesn’t need to rush somewhere because of a small clue concerning that sly creature, to worry about paranoia’s itching that tells him not to trust anyone.

Obito can cover himself with the blankets, like he did when he was a child, and spit on revolutions-riots-schemes and other’s opinion, feel safe from this fucking world that only stabs in the heart again and again.

Like it happened with Rin.

Like it is happening with Madara. Well, not actually with Madara and not like it happened with Rin, though it hurts just as much.

But for some reason, he can’t breathe. Can’t let out a breath. He is choking.

And he can’t leave, something holds him. Maybe memories or maybe foolish biases.

Or someone.

 _Still_ alive someone.

But, of course, this is stupid and not like with Rin. Because for Rin he peeled himself from the earth and existed for decades with his last ounce of strenght while he dooms Madara to death almost with his own hands.

The new moon looms over Obito’s head in a reproachful silence, rarely hiding behind the pre-dawn greyish-white clouds.


	7. Subnumber two of number three

The ships don’t need

the ships don't need

piers in the sky.

The ships are docking

the ships are docking

on the pine's top.

—the continuation of the children's song.

 

**…about the sincere moon.**

“Why didn’t you rebel when they made Hashirama the Hokage?”

A single question yet too much depends on it. Maybe not everything, but, on the other hand, who knows. It’s quite possible.

Obito isn’t just curious. But very curious.

To death.

To the point when he waits for Madara after the work, like some nutty fangirl, similar to those that stalked Sasuke. Obito sneaked into Konoha a few times, so he knows perfectly well about the sufferings of the youngest remaining Uchiha.

“And I should have? Why should I care whether I’m the Hokage or he is?”

Obito barely keeps from saying: yes, you should have, how else? You once did exactly that.

Well, not really “did”, “will do” is more appropriate here, though Obito genuinely doesn't care about the space-time continuum nuances. Minato-sensei would've smacked him on the head for this. He deeply loved space-time ninjutsu and everything regarding them. Fortunately, Minato-sensei isn't here.

However, Obito wouldn't have gotten away with just a head slap for what he’s doing now. At a minimum, a hit in the back with the Rasengan and a triple-prong kunai through the heart. So he would have surely and definitely died. Possibly in agony.

“Considering your personality, I expected something like that, not passive inaction.” Madara scowls at Obito’s honesty, catches papers falling out of the carton box and looks with a slight annoyance at his friend.

Or not really his friend.

Madara is strange. Not as in strange that Izuna uses when he grumbles at Obito. He behaves strangely and is simply an idiot. Obito still doesn’t comprehend how the everyone and everything's terror could fall in love. Well, he knows the process, but his imagination fails him when it comes to Madara.

He could at least choose some girl. Obito wouldn’t have complained or said a word in that case. Obito himself fondly cherished the echoes of his old feelings for Rin till his own death.

But who could fall in love with him?

No, Obito gets the concept of sleeping with men. There’s even some logic in feelings between two men. At least, a bit drunk Deidara tried to tell him about this logic.

His brain just halts at two mutually exclusive things: Madara and Obito. One can’t be with another. And another isn’t really ready for that.

It’s not even dissonance, simple “what a nonsense”, denial. It’s much more simple.

Obito is used to be hating Madara.

At first, fearing him, then admiring, but the mutilated Uchiha wished his old teacher nothing but to die soon and never come back from the grave. Ideally, Madara would have cast that Tsukiyomi, and after that, it wouldn’t have mattered who and in what state: Obito would have been met by Rin, asshole Kakashi that hadn’t become as sappy as his real version, and the end of the Third Shinobi War.

Obito breathed it, this aspiration for fifteen years while he was messing with Nagato-Pein’s psyche, forcing Kirigakure to drown in its own shit and ruining the village's reputation in the rest world. After all, they got out of the Third War, keeping a stable position of one of the strongest Villages, no one would have dared to say anything about their honour. Only genins were scared with the tales of Bloody Mist because it was all bullshit. Almost. Every year in a typical Hidden Village was shed more blood than in all legends and rumors about Kirigakure combined.

Here it turned somewhere left from the beginning. It was impossible to consider little Madara the Madara. Honestly. A kid running around scared and in awe, a bit closed off, with an ocean of complexes and big black eyes. Just a spot on the world’s pathos in unison to his name*. And he had already learnt how to kill, though he didn’t stand out in anything else.

Obito got distracted at that time. Accepted the game’s terms, put a mask of an impudent older brother. Became a child with a shady story, recently murdered relatives and an unclear position in the Great clan. He lost almost his whole childhood, it was devoured by the Third War, the Academy, and the lack of friends. Suddenly appeared the thought to fix this unfortunate omission. Not really fix it, but to relax in conditionally combat conditions while conducting combat actions. To breath the freedom of the Era of Warring States, to sneer at the social norms and proud relatives.

Madara weaved himself into his entertainment program. Without a permission or an invitation, like he always did. This didn’t change about him at all. Then he weaved Izuna into it for the company.

To Obito’s complete horror.

He always associated Madara only with hatred, fragility and the moon.

In his imagination hatred was always tinted with red colour. Hatred is revenge, revenge causes blood. It’s all logical.

Human lives are fragile. Human psyche. Especially psyche: thirty-years-old almost dead Obito visualized it as some crystal, a natural rough stone with many projections.

The moon… a coincidence. Madara told about his confrontation with Hashirama, about controlling the Kyuubi. Supported his words with illusions. Obito _saw_ how the wind rose, chasing away the clouds, so he could take in the giant moon, looming above the world.

(then happened the battle with Hashirama, one more almost-death, his own death, on the conscience of that lucky bastard Madara that added up to his list of grievances to Shinigami, and the tight connection between the moon prison and rabbit Kaguya)

Madara in front of the moon. Maybe a stupid logo of some company in future, maybe an annoying ghost of the past-future-nothingness.

Obito no longer remembers what he told the boy years ago as he gave up to nostalgia. Just hatred-fragility-moon. Just self-hatred, the fragility of the shinobi’s bones, crushed under Obito’s steady hand, and the moon, observing all this mayhem. All this mixed and intertwined so quickly with the support of dozens of stories and hundreds of musings.

Obito didn’t plan to find friends in the world he was bound to leave. Much less in the past of this world. But they cling to him, got stuck, didn’t let him go.

Obito let them go himself. He ran away. Ran away, justifying it with old habits, the rigidity of his mind, and his love for freedom. Somebody needs to stop Zetsu, right? He thought he would kill him, and everything would be back to the way it was before, everything would be nice and wonderful.

Well, he killed him. What a good boy. Did it get better?

…who the hell knows.

That story with Hashirama near the creek hit Obito over his stupid little head and put his worldview back in place.

And now hatred-hatred-hatred, all of it utterly for you, Madara-kun. Don’t dare to expect anything else, you don’t deserve it. He insulated himself. Remembered who was the growing kid that faithfully looked him in the eye. Traditionally, he ran away.

Then, after healing Izuna, he almost told him to fuck off. He kept silent because he knew: if he opened his mouth, he would surely tell him so.

It was hard to relate asking Madara with Madara. Asking, _pleading_ …

…come to think of it, Madara’s love is really logical. Who cares if he set his priorities wrong and gets hard because of the guy with the ugly side of the body. After all, we love not a body, but a soul, huh?

“He wanted the village, he got the village. My influence, our clan’s influence are just as strong as they would be if I took the Hokage’s position. So it doesn't matter. I hope that’s all?”

Madara is tired. The work is truly hard especially if he has to bicker with Tobirama about everything, and when it’s not him bickering, he has to stop fights between Tobirama and Izuna, let alone some organizational matters and his own work, the need to command the shinobi responsible for maintaining order among the civilian population, and other paperwork.

Obito could have sympathized with him because from personal experience he knows many ills created by the clan alliance system, but, unfortunately, he considers sympathy an unnecessary emotion. And Madara doesn’t need it. He is irritated, he does his best to stay on his feet and will probably try to kill the annoying fly that crossed the way to his coveted futon and blanket. He can see it in his eyes.

Obito thinks he knows Madara better than Madara knows himself, so reading him isn’t a problem.

“Oh, of course, how dare I to disturb you,” Obito nods with a smile. Madara is about to jump on the rooftop when he decides to continue. “That’s what you wanted to hear. Unfortunately, I have too much free time, and my brain wasn’t taken out of my skull, so I still know how to think.”

Obito has no idea what he’s trying to say. At this moment the conversation may take any possible direction, from Madara’s infatuation that Madara himself doesn’t wholly realize to the clan’s coup.

It is going to begin today.

And for some reason Obito does it.

Even though it goes against all his plans, these words seem natural and right. This is how it should be.

“You are blind, Madara-kun,” Obito smiles. “You say “our clan”, but does the clan consider you theirs?”

Obito has been watching Madara for two goddamn months. Not to mention all his life and part of elderly years.

Maybe the problem is that Obito is used to hate _that_ Madara.

And this one is somehow different.

They have some common traits like the behaviour during battles, some grimaces, and the habit to show his superiority above others. But this Madara is much more alive than the other one and isn’t like him, and Obito struggles to name the exact difference, he just feels it.

Obito doesn’t like this “it”.

No matter how much Obito wants to forget and dismiss the fact that the clansmen will kill Izuna soon and then get to Madara, he can’t.

He can’t really hate this Madara. At all. He can remind himself who he is and will become, distress himself, he can do this with ease. But he can’t hate him again.

Obito somehow understands other’s feelings but persistently fails to identify his own.

Or just doesn’t want to.

“What are you talking about?”

Obito turns around and jumps to the nearest rooftop.

“Follow me. If it’s not too late, you’ll understand what I mean.”

Obito runs to the edge of the forest near the clan compound and feels Madara not far behind him.

Frankly, the world around him seems to Obito a bad dream or Tsukiyomi’s mockery while his own actions seem idiotic. But something ponds in his chest: you can’t act that way in this case, not now, not here. And for some reason, Obito listens.

He hides his chakra near the forest, forcing Madara to do the same. Secret paths aren’t all that secret for those who want to see. Some time later they notice people ahead. The Uchiha.

“What the…?” Obito brings the index finger to his mouth, asking to stay silent.

The people surrounded Izuna. The people seem aggressive. The people are one of the strongest in the Uchiha clan. No matter how skilled Izuna is, they outnumber him.

Obito clicks his tongue with admiration. These pests thought of everything. Almost everything. Obito sees in the crowd curious faces of Rai and Baru, Naori somewhere to the left, and he’s sure Naka is around. Those who recreated the Izanagi. Those who have managed to create a technique that is able to bypass the Izanagi effects, the Izanami.

How likely is that one of them will sacrifice an eye because of Izuna? Highly.

Obito remembers how he promised to kill Izuna if he got out of this. It was before he decided to bring Madara here. It won’t happen.

But could he?

He was persuading himself for so many nights and days, almost whispering in the night: “these two are dangerous to the perfect future that exists in my memories.”

He could.

Obito was the shadow leader of the organization Akatsuki. This kind of things leaves its mark on the personality. He could. He would have got over himself and forgotten what the two arrogant guys meant to him. It wouldn’t have been easy, but Obito could kill them. If he didn’t miss a step at the last moment.

And why did he turn from that path?

In Obito's mind are still swirling the thoughts like “he dared to fall in love with me”, and he already doesn’t like the answer. It would be fine if it was just his guilt for the possible betrayal that left a sour taste in his mouth. Obito prefers not to be mistaken in his own feelings, even if Madara doesn’t fully understand his own antics.

But the thing is he just “prefers”. Some things are hard to admit to yourself, and it’s easier to run away as usual.

Madara almost bolts from the branch they are standing on. Obito abruptly hits him in the stomach and maybe hugs him or maybe grips with his hands, so he won’t dare to move.

“Shush, shush. We can’t interfere now, Izuna-kun is a clever boy in case you didn’t know.” Madara hits him with his sharp elbow, and Obito visibly winces.

“Shush, my ass!” Though he whispers his words.

“Calm down. If anything goes wrong, we’ll make it in time. For now, remember the present and think how they can be discreetly disposed in case they don’t die today.”

Madara glares at him but keeps his killer intent in check. If the spruce started giving off killer intent, it would be considered a bad sign.

“And listen. In recent months you’ve missed all the fun going on in the clan.”

At that moment in the clearing the elder croons about something slightly wrong:

“Join us, Izuna-sama. You will rightly take the clan head’s place…”

Obito listens to him without paying much attention. The elder makes a good orator, even a wonderful one. If not for the falseness, the whole clan would have followed him, not just a handful of people.

“And here I thought they’d try to get me to do your hellish job. I don’t know if I should be offended that they don’t promise me the clan head’s position anymore.” Madara rolls his eyes and finally pushes away Obito.

Madara seems to be furious, barely holding himself together.

“Who even needs you? As a clan head, you would look like a rooster on a fence.”

Izuna softly declines such a “flattering” offer. The crowd tenses. Everyone waits for the elder’s words and the signal for action.

“That’s unfortunate, Izuna-sama.”

The elder started raising his hand when Izuna’s katana already pierced his heart, and he leisurely yanks it back. Wet slurping sounds incredibly loud in the dawned silence.

A moment later Izuna takes the old man’s head off. The body stands for a couple of seconds, his larynx and a part of the spine that is merrily white against brown are perfectly seen from the above. The body sinks, falling near Izuna’s feet. The head rolls to the crowd and is lifted by a comparatively young boy about seventeen.

Obito recognizes Hikaku. He holds the head at some distance from himself not to stain his kimono with the dripping blood, so the old man’s expression isn’t visible.

Madara tries to reach his brother again, and Obito slaps him on the neck. Now he has to hold him from behind, putting a kunai to his throat.

“I told you not to move. Believe in your brother. He isn’t that brat that kept following you and needed you to take care of him anymore.”

“I fucking swear. As soon as this shit ends, I’ll make you throw up your own insides, Obito, got it?! “

Madara, of course, loves him but expresses his feelings… his own way.

Obito knows for sure that he will never carry out his own words, that the only thing he wants to say can be read in his wide eyes: his concern for Izuna and how he will manage. Obito’s Mangekyo is activated, and Madara’s real emotions are perfectly clear with the help of the Sharingan.

Obito sighs. Madara — both this one and the one from his memories — didn’t learn how to communicate with people. He has problems expressing himself, and the attempt to murder is still considered the most plausible substitution of the attempt to negotiate.

It’s not like this is bad. This is a fact of life and occupational deformation.

“Yeah, yeah, as you wish, I love you, too.”

Madara flinches, almost getting stabbed with the kunai. And why is Obito teasing him?

The actions on the ground below are progressing: Rai, Baru and a couple of people stand in front of Izuna, insulating him.

“You are so sure in your decision to overthrow the clan head?”

Izuna talks about the honour, pursing his lips, and about the alliance with the Senju that was approved by the whole clan. He talks about Konohagakure, about the peace. About what will happen if the current clan head is killed.

The people aren’t impressed.

“You can't deal with the fact that, in your opinion, the Uchiha took the second place, giving the first one to the Senju, because one of them became the Hokage?!”

Obito smiles. Yes. That’s right.

The Uchiha should prevail everywhere, asserting dominance over the Senju. Madara failed to provide the clan with the predominant role, that’s why he’s a bad clan leader.

The logic is disgustingly simple.

Izuna is fervently trying to refute these conclusions. Izuna is speaking with passion while watching each shinobi that dares to move in any direction. And they listen. Because if they don’t, they’ll lose their heads, just like the elder.

Obito slowly puts the kunai away from Madara’s throat. He turns around to punch him in the face, but Obito dashes back into the forest.

It seems Madara isn't going to follow him.

Obito hopes this “clan head” will handle the rest on his own without wrecking anything. At least Izuna won’t let him do that.

Obito is tired of agonizing over Madara’s confusing, yet clear feelings and over his own feelings that have caught up to him in a hormonal riot or in a memory of something. Obito will run away. Firstly, away from himself and, secondly, away from troubles because this is habitual and usual for him.

Maybe, this is a right thing to do. Obito shouldn’t be in Konoha. It’s not like he cares about time frames and possibilities, though it’ll make a good excuse for himself. He has already messed up so much: Zetsu, the tailed beasts, the God Tree.

Obito laughs tiredly. “Messed up” is putting it lightly. He changed many time parallels and the fate of the world, nothing more. He can be proud of himself. But doesn’t want to. He changed one thing but couldn’t change the other one, just created a different development opportunity.

How stupid.

Obito almost storms out of Kamui in his house. He unwittingly scowls, realizing he has to abandon this house, like Konoha, too. He just wasted time bargaining, trying to buy exactly this house. He was fooling only himself. He got the evidence of the upcoming riot in the very beginning, yet decided — okay, whatever, everything is fucked up anyway, does it matter if there’s one difference more or one difference less? At that time he thought it didn’t matter. Now it turns out it does.

It’s too troublesome to stay in Konoha. They’ll wait and surely make a mess, dragging him into some scheme. There’s no choice, the Uchiha incident proves it. Unless he starts manipulating others himself and outsmarts everyone. It is possible with Obito’s experience, he worked in this field more than all shinobi clan heads, but when was it? A past life, half-forgotten priorities. Obito has grown unused to people. While he’s capable of creating a spy network, he won’t be able to reach a higher level and go big.

Moreover, if he stays in Konoha, he will have to deal with the civilian authorities’ attempts to govern shinobi. Obito doesn’t want to deal with them in addition.

Obito automatically goes through his belongings and sends some of them into his dimension — that’s why it’s so good to have both eyes — so the foreign presence is discovered-found-understood gradually. There was no one a moment ago.

Obito thought he was a good sensor. He was a little wrong.

“What the hell are you doing?” Obito barely dodges someone's fist, and next moment he is pinned to the wall. Madara looks at him with anger and — deep inside — confusion.

Obito can use Kamui and silently leave like he always did. But he is terribly curious what kind of scene Madara will make and where he thinks it should lead.

Madara, a genius puppeteer, and a master manipulator. But not this one. He is too inexperienced in these games. He’ll hardly change Obito’s mind, so let him play with words and think they mean something. Obito will still run away.

As usual.

“I’m running away. Isn’t it clear?” Madara’s fist hits the wall to the right of Obito’s face. The wood cracks. Madara is shorter than him, so his attempts to look down upon him only make Obito laugh. He doesn’t even try to dodge, if Madara was aiming at his face, he would land a hit. It’s ridiculous to miss a hit from this distance. “Before my arrival, Izuna at least was able to discourage the pathetic attempts to overthrow the leader. Izuna would rather kill himself than betray you. They just didn’t have a replacement for you, you know? When I came back, the situation changed. For the worse.”

Excuses again. So what? They can nail the clan, send undesirables on suicidal missions, help Izuna at least, can’t they? Obito just needs to justify his another runaway, and so he does.

Obito doesn’t care about the clan. That’s the problem.

“So what? They failed, then why the hell are you-”

“Leaving the clan again?” Or fleeing, tail between my legs? Or running away from you?  
“You know, I really wish I hated you, but for some reason, I can’t. At all.”

“Why would you hate me?” Madara gets distracted. Obito tries to hold his laughter. It proved to be so easy to change the subject.

“Why, Madara-kun?” It gives Obito indescribable pleasure to add to Madara’s name the honorific “-kun”. Who would dare to call him something other than “-sama” or, at a minimum, “-san”? Izuna, Hashirama with his brother just call him by his name.

Despite himself, Obito stands out in this case too.

“You think I have nothing to hate you for?” Madara’s eyes are black, so black. Now he is completely confused.

Obito suddenly thinks he, actually, has nothing. Nothing to hate this Madara for. He didn’t betray him, he didn’t ruin his life, he isn’t to blame for anything except a couple thousands of murdered enemies.

“However, that’s not the point. It would be easier. If I hated you, it would be easier for me.”

“But you don’t,” clarifies-states Madara.

“I don’t,” complaisantly agrees Obito.

“Then we return to the question: what the hell are you doing?”

“Then we return to my answer: I’m running away somewhere where the clan is unheard of,” patiently replies Obito. “What I’m really wondering about is something else: you’ve been avoiding me for a couple of months, and now you barge into my house and demand something. Care to explain the behaviour changes?”

Madara gets perplexed again. Distances himself as if he suddenly calms down. Obito doesn't believe him but pretends nothing like that happens.

It's even interesting: where will the conversation end and who will win, confusing the opponent?

“Before you leave, explain me one thing.” Obito drawls “Hmmm?” as a question and, despite himself, tenses: his intuition is ringing the alarm bells. Just like a long time ago. “How did you manage to bring to the compound so many things without carrying them and using fuin on your body or storage scrolls.”

The question is stupid. He can laugh, he can give an honest answer.

But he sees the Mangekyou in Madara’s eyes, and there’s no humour left in Obito. A bright crimson iris, a black circle with empty dots and three thick lines leading to them. Seems like nothing special until you remember what these eyes are capable of.

In the end, he has gone too far with his games.

Obito’s blood runs cold from fear that he immediately shakes off.

No.

His home isn't the cave one hundred meters under the ground.

In front of him isn’t the white-haired old man.

And this isn't the battlefield of the Shinobi Alliance against Madara, and he isn't resurrected by Kabuto’s technique, and he isn't the one with the returned body, he isn't the one versed in the art of the Six Paths, and Obito isn't thirteen-slash-to-thirty to react this way to the activation of the Sharingan’s highest form. Yes, at this moment Madara has the strongest genjutsu right up to the Izanagi and the Izanami at his disposal, but so does Obito.

Obito thanks the world and all random occurrences that out of all Uchihas only Shisui got the Kotoamatsukami and that it was successfully lost. He is thankful just as much that Madara can’t use the Limbo without the Rinnegan.

“Isn't it clear? Kamui.” Madara frowns. Obito shrugs.

At that time he had only one eye, so he bore in mind the technique’s capabilities as he used it. He could take things into his dimension exclusively with himself, unlike Kakashi, and take them out of there this way as well. So he had to experiment with the teleportation of body parts outside battles, not to become intangible, but for domestic use.

“You mean you had had the Mangekyo long before you were sixteen?” Obito keeps himself from a spiteful answer “I’ve had the Mangekyo for like forty years if not more” and nods, tracking Madara’s movements.

This whole conversation is to distract him. Distract from what? Or he doesn’t know what to say or answer? Obito tries to look underneath it, but there’s nothing to look at. He has problems realizing that the person before him can be sincere in what he says.

He has a point.

“I see. So when are you going to return?” Obito looks at Madara who's trying to feign calmness with a sincere surprise. “I hope not almost a decade later, like this time?”

Honestly, this situation appears to be really stupid.

“We’ll see.” Promising “ideally, never” can be read between the words. Madara isn’t that foolish not to figure it out.

“As a shinobi of Konohagakure-”

“I have every right to take a little vacation.” At first vacation, then it won’t be long till appears the status “may be dead” or “a deserter”.

Obito isn’t going to come back. Sort of. Though he is still standing in front of Madara as if granting himself an opportunity to reconsider it.

This thought drives him mad.

“A vacation in our occupation lasts at max three or four days. Or not?”

“Quit stalling. Why, all of a sudden, did you take off after me and leave your beloved little brother, Madara-kun? Why, all of a sudden, do you honour me with your attention?”

Yes, like this. A bit more, press him with some phrase, and Madara will be distracted by his feelings for one brief moment. It will be enough to run off to a safe distance, so Madara won’t get caught into Kamui.

Obito smirks and takes a few steps closer to Madara. Instead of a plan, Obito has one wild idea and, seemingly, a desire to get into trouble.

In fact, it should be easy to discourage the clan head.

Obito lightly almost fleetingly kisses Madara.

He just needs to get a few seconds, play for the element of surprise. And during these few seconds, he will activate Kamui and then never show up in cursed Konoha. It's all Obito wants.

What can possibly go wrong?

But Madara deepens the kiss, his hands searchingly stroke Obito’s neck and comb his spiky hair. And his eyes show derision as if Obito’s plan is exposed, revealed, disclosed.

Obito forces himself to mirror Madara’s derision and bites his lower lip, then Madara pushes him back against the wall. Obito doesn’t let him take the initiative completely and stubbornly slides his hands down his body, caressing the pronounced ribs with his callous fingers, and Madara groans into his mouth.

Neither wishes to give up and end this farce first. They should stop and think what the hell is going on because their behaviour is almost delusional and close to now instinctive childish desire to overpower the opponent. They can’t think, but, frankly, they aren’t really trying.

They are blown away, Obito runs from himself again while Madara runs from his responsibilities and the clan’s treachery. Maybe they are genuinely kissing, maybe they are trying to hurt each other as much as possible. No one knows how they will explain bruised and swollen lips.

Obviously, Obito finds himself on the futon, Madara pins him down, clutching his hands till the bones hurt, arousal rushing through his veins.

“Just try to run away again, bastard. I’ll block your chakra and chain you, you hear me?”

Obito finds Madara’s claims ridiculous. He draws the man closer and shuts him up with a demanding kiss, throwing his own thoughts away for better times.

Obito will always have time to run away no matter what somebody says or thinks.

In the morning there are no questions or grievances, and when Izuna barges into the room (searching for his elder brother), they both unanimously tell him to fuck off.

(after the question “can you at least cook?” Obito patiently cracks the eggs to prepare an omelette instead of breaking them over Madara’s head while Izuna is sitting in the kitchen with an offended expression: he spent all yesterday evening and night dealing with the consequences of that sorry rebellion while his brother, as it turns out, was getting laid)

Obito stays for some time as he postpones his runaway every dawn. One day more, one day less, what's the difference? Obito thinks he still controls the situation successfully.

Madara chuckles. Maybe he controls the situation but certainly not the right one.

A couple years later no scum will go against the leader of the Uchiha clan and his suggestions because every person has their sins and they are all known to the man with the ugly scar on the right side of his face that stands behind Madara. Hashirama turns a blind eye to this: first of all, it’s easier for him to rule Konohagakure when he doesn’t need to argue about every new decree with a dozen clans but just find a compromise with his old friend. Well, it’s mostly not him who argues but Tobirama, and Izuna is always there to prove him wrong.

Obito can easily shut up the civilian authorities, part of them already hang themselves or “accidentally” met Shinigami. If not he personally, then other clans that can’t stand weaklings ordering them around will limit the power of the daimyo or the aristocrats, Hashirama will guide the rabble so they won’t cross the line and do only what is needed.

Of course, sometimes it's not this smooth. More than once he had to cut down the dissatisfied, argue with the clan heads and find the solutions to the very conflicting issues that would please everyone. Obito can handle this.

Now, he doesn’t even recall his desire to leave: he is too busy.

Madara isn't a master manipulator, like Izuna, but that doesn't mean he's a complete failure. The simpler is the plan, the more are chances that it will go unnoticed and inconspicuous. Madara gave Obito a few problems and asked for help, then Izuna and Tobirama who were wrestling with the daimyo’s demands got involved.

Madara almost did nothing. De facto. Obito volunteered to help and now he won’t get out of this without consequences. Of course, it’s a bit selfish to entrap him like this, but Madara doesn’t feel remorseful. These problems have to be solved anyway, and they better be solved by the one who understands them a bit. Or at least points out obvious mistakes and tells how to fix them.

In the evening Obito often deals with the paperwork while Madara lies in his lap, and, not to say, he is happy: this term is too vague, but he is quite content with the situation.

Madara got what he wanted again. In the other reality or not, with or without the Rinnegan, whether he needed the whole world or just one stubborn shinobi.

It's not like Obito doesn't know.

Obito prefers to ignore this. He kind of found his place in life for the second time, and he didn’t even need to die from Kaguya’s bone technique to prove it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * this is a reference to Madara's name which is translated as "spot"


	8. Subnumber three of number three; end of the list

The ships keep coming

the ships keep coming

to us from far away.

The white ships, the white ships

are actually the clouds. 

— the end of the children’s song.

 

**…about the red moon that is indeed made of crystal.**

No, Izuna isn’t really shocked. He can’t be described even as surprised.

As usual, Izuna bickers with Tobirama, cussing him, wanders around god knows where, gets on the nerves of the clansmen or just passerby. From time to time he waltzes in Obito’s house instead of Madara and his mansion which incredibly irritates both of them.

Honestly, the fact that the two of the strongest clan members — and in addition to that complete scumbags — decided to hook up doesn’t amaze him as much as their relationship itself. Not smacks-slaps during arguments and occasionally flaring quarrels that end on the clan’s training grounds or in the newly built hospital. It’s a facade. Izuna is a genjutsu master, and he of all people can tell the difference between show and sincerity. It’s actually difficult to accomplish this concerning Obito because in his case facade often comes with sincerity, though the years of practice do the trick.

Obito shouts a lot about how he’s tired of feeding everyone, but the attention probably even flatters him. Even though he learned how to cook during his travels, his skill doesn't reach the bar “good”, so Izuna prefers to turn a blind eye to the way he painstakingly studies the scrolls with the recipes that he has borrowed from still alive Kaori-san while Madara isn’t around.

Obito grumbles a lot and cusses Izuna out, he has learnt how to throw a ladle, he hisses at Madara because of his thoroughness in the work which results in returning home after midnight or spending the nights right in the Hokage Tower.

Obito is really trying to get used to the fact that he is not alone.

Madara doesn’t often focus on the nonsense Obito spews, and half listening to his annoyed grunts, he falls asleep somewhere on Obito’s shoulder/chest. Sometimes in his lap.

They remind of a family. A pretty idiotic, crazy family, and Izuna can’t shrug off this association. Which one is mommy and daddy is hard to tell, and Izuna doesn’t try to find out. They lack only a child to get the complete status of a family.

Eventually, Izuna curses himself and his thoughts.

“What is it?” Little curly-haired boy of six years hides behind Madara’s wide kimono and cautiously glances at him with his big black eyes. Obito lets out a little chuckle. Izuna thinks.

Uh-huh. Understandable. Another dumb idea of fool Obito.

“ _Its_ name is Kagami. Be more polite to your nephew.” Obito tries to smile softly, though his lips flash a mischievous grin anyway. Madara frowns but doesn’t contradict the statement about the nephew.

Izuna tries to make sense.

Dirty jokes are about to escape his lips, but he doubts his little “nephew” is ready to hear them.

“I’ve only been gone for a week. What kind of place did you get him out of?”

Obito shrugs. He says his parents died on the mission. Close relatives as well. The missions happened to be that way. And his grandmother died a week ago, so no one knew where Kagami was supposed to go. At first, he was tossed around between relatives, then he somehow appeared in Obito’s house. And settled in. And where Obito is, there’s Madara.

When the elders decide to put pressure on Madara concerning the marriage and the perspective of finding a wife, he dismisses them, saying he’s content with having an adoptive son.

Izuna tactfully decides not to clarify if they realize that they almost acknowledge him as the clan’s heir.They should realize.

Izuna grumbles about this, though somehow lazily.

Later he even gets used to Kagami. Little kid is smart and likes studying, he is polite and easily gets the hints, he is extremely considerate when he needs it. Though he too often spits in a sarcastic tone and rolls his eyes, Izuna doesn’t blame the boy. It’s all Obito and Madara, they have corrupted the kid, these bastards.

So far Kagami hasn’t got punched for the things he says as he manages to get away from the fights or beat up his opponents. He’s made a couple of friends, he and Sarutobi Hiruzen have started pulling pranks and peeking at kunoichi in the hot springs.

For some reason, “dads” and uncle of this little devil prefer to turn a blind eye to this. Unanimously.

Madara still tries to dump his responsibilities on others without any luck. Obito sometimes disappears because of missions and tells anyone tall tales again. He has found new entertainment: he rants all over the village that he saw the future and predicts an end of the world for each day.

The world, of course, is close to the war that will affect the whole continent and the islands, but Izuna is sure they’ll get through. They have to get through for the sake of the family and Konoha.

Anyway, life is full of hardships, and as long as they have people to overcome them with, as long as exist people they can return to…

“Izuna-oji, transfer me to another team! That Danzo-baka gets on my nerves!” The brush Izuna used to fill in the documents a moment ago hits Kagami’s forehead, splattering him with ink.

“But Izuna-oji!” The boy grimaces and smudges the ink on his face.

Madara screams behind the thin wall for Kagami to hear that it’s better not to mess with dumbasses at all, then they catch broody grunts, something falls, and they hear them both laughing.

Izuna thinks Obito and Madara have a stupid communication style and lifestyle in general, but it fits the overall picture of this world in surprising harmony. Izuna is surprisingly right about his conclusions.

The full moon bathes the earth in scarlet. Some say it’s a bad sign, some shout about the dead and upcoming murders.

Izuna huffs at such claims. The red moon led Obito to Madara, became the fulcrum of the story. Needless to say, the red moon is a good luck charm to him.

White clouds with scarlet gleams float in the sky, occasionally covering and then revealing the moon. Everything was ordinary for the people that live under its gaze.


End file.
